The Ticking Clock.
The back alley reeked of garbage and rancid grease.
Amara kicked open the heavy steel door, dragging Aryan into the cool night air.
"Get in," she commanded, shoving him toward a matte-black SUV parked illegally beside a dumpster.
Aryan scrambled into the passenger seat. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Just ten minutes ago, he was a waiter, worried about spilling a drink. Now, he was fleeing a crime scene with a woman who had just decapitated a CEO.
Amara slid into the driver's seat. The door thudded shut, sealing them inside a bubble of silence. The interior smelled of new leather and ozone, a sharp contrast to the sulfur and sweat clinging to Aryan's clothes. He sank into the plush bucket seat, feeling out of place, like a stain on a pristine painting.
The engine roared to life with a predator's growl. She peeled out of the alley, merging into traffic just as the wail of sirens pierced the night.
"Phone," Amara demanded, hand extended. "GPS. Where do you live?"
Aryan handed it over, trembling. "Don't people say awakening only happens during teenage years? I'm twenty-one."
"The rules bend for Seers," Amara said, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. She offered a tight, joyless smile. "Welcome to the underworld."
She took a sharp turn, tires squealing. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon. Aryan grabbed the dashboard handle, his knuckles turning white.
She drove with a terrifying, calculated aggression, weaving through gaps in traffic that shouldn't have existed.
"Check your System," she ordered. "You leveled up. I need to know your stats to see if you'll survive the next twenty minutes."
Aryan closed his eyes and focused on the chime in his head.
[System Open]
Name: Aryan
Class: Seer (Unique)
Level: 1 (Iron Rank)
[Stats]
Strength: 8 (Below Average)
Agility: 9 (Average)
Intelligence: 18 (High)
Perception: 25 (Awakened - Rank 9 Potential)
[Assets]
Truth Points: 500
Cash Balance: $5,000,000
[Skills]
Seer Eye (Passive): View Truth Percentage and Hidden Identity.
Voice of Judgment (Active - Lvl 1): When stating a proven Truth, the target suffers "Mental Break." (Cooldown: 1 hour).
[Condition]
Status: Adrenaline Crash.
"Well?" Amara asked.
"Perception is twenty-five," Aryan replied. "But Strength is eight. It says 'Below Average.' That's insulting. I haul crates for twelve hours a day."
Amara whistled low. "Twenty-five at Iron Rank? That's freakish.
Most Scouts start at ten. You really can see everything. And don't worry about the Strength stat. You're a Seer, not a tank. If you're getting hit, you've already failed."
"Forget the numbers," Aryan said, gripping the dashboard as she ran a red light. "What is this world? You just killed a man."
"I killed a Demon," Amara corrected. "And don't look at me like I'm the monster. The war has been raging since the dawn of history. Demons against Hunters. Hunters against Hunters. Demons against Demons."
"Hunters fight each other?"
"Everyone fights everyone," Amara said coldly. "Some Demons want chaos.
Some want peace. Most just want to eat. It's messy.
The government pretends they have it under control, but they just manage the PR.
Every night, in every city, there is a war happening in the shadows. That's why Seers are critical. You are the only ones who can tell the difference."
"So I need to rank up," Aryan said. "How does it work?"
"Simple," Amara said. "There are Nine Ranks."
"Iron (Rank 1): You can destroy a wall."
"Bronze (Rank 2): You can destroy a street."
"Silver (Rank 3): You can wipe out a village."
"Gold (Rank 4): I can destroy a city block."
"And the Monarch?" Aryan asked. "The guy who saved us?"
"Platinum (Rank 5)," Amara said, her voice dropping. "He could erase this entire state if he sneezed. People like him don't fight battles, Aryan.
They are walking natural disasters. That's why you don't mess with the Monarchs."
Aryan swallowed hard. "Sam? You there?"
"Always," the AI voice drawled in his head.
"Why does my mission failure penalty say 'Death'?" Aryan whispered.
"Amara says Seers are valuable. Why would the System want to kill me?"
Amara slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt in front of Aryan's crumbling apartment complex.
The sudden stop threw Aryan forward against the seatbelt. He looked out the window. The peeling paint of his building and the flickering streetlight looked even more pathetic next to the glossy finish of the SUV.
She turned to face him, her expression sharp.
"Your System says what?"
"Failure Penalty: Death by Demon Consumption," Aryan repeated.
Amara frowned. It was the first time she looked genuinely disturbed.
"That shouldn't happen. Seers are support units. They don't get 'Death Penalties.' Your System is... aggressive. Usually, Systems coddle Seers. Yours sounds like it wants to throw you into a meat grinder."
"She's right," Sam chimed in. "But hey, diamonds are made under pressure, right kid?"
"Shut up, Sam," Aryan muttered.
Amara tapped the steering wheel, thinking. "Listen to me, Aryan. The Demon I killed tonight... Anay. He wasn't working alone. Gluttony Demons pack together. He has brothers, partners, investors."
Aryan felt the cold reality settle in. "They'll come after me?"
"They'll come after us," Amara corrected. "You exposed him. I killed him. We're marked."
She leaned in closer, her amber eyes intense.
"I have the combat skills to kill them, but I can't find them.
They hide in the government, the police, the hospitals. You have the eyes to see them."
"So, what? We just keep doing this?" Aryan asked. "Hunting them?"
"We don't just hunt," Amara said. "We farm them. You need money. I need Rank. The city is full of monsters wearing Gucci suits. We're going to strip them and take everything they have."
Aryan looked at her. It sounded insane. It sounded suicidal.
But then he remembered the Five Million Dollars in his account. He remembered his mother's medical bills.
He remembered the notices under his door. For the first time in his life, he wasn't the prey. He had a chance to be the predator.
"Can I trust you?" he asked.
"You'll know soon enough," she replied with a shrug. She unlocked the doors. "Go home. Pay your bills. Buy a better suit. Meet me at the 'Red Door' café in Bandra tomorrow at noon. And Aryan?"
He paused with his hand on the door handle.
"Don't look at anyone's secrets on the way up," she warned. "Ignorance is bliss, and you look like you need a good night's sleep."
Aryan nodded, stepping out into the humid night.
As the matte-black SUV drove away, fading into the darkness, Aryan couldn't help himself.
He looked at the retreating taillights and activated his Seer Eye one last time.
[Target: Amara]
[Class: Hunter (Rank Gold)]
[Hidden Truth: She is Infected.]
[Curse: Demon Rot (Stage 3)]
[Estimated Time until Death: 89 Days.]
Aryan stood frozen in the empty lot.
She hadn't told him that.
She wasn't hunting for rank. She wasn't hunting for money.
She was hunting for a cure.