Kalein Cross sat in a quiet coffee shop, leaning back into his chair as he enjoyed a cup of black coffee, while the faint aroma of roasted beans lingered warmly around him. He closed his eyes slowly, savoring the stillness of the moment as if the world had briefly forgotten how to move. Then, in a barely audible breath, he whispered, "Enhance: Absolute Awareness."
Suddenly, he snapped. His eyes tore open, and he lunged to his feet. "Shit! Shit! Shit! What?"
He streaked out of the shop with such explosive velocity that the tables, chairs, and cups started to fly backward into the air. But his speed was so incomprehensible that, in a blur of movement, he righted every piece of furniture and caught every falling mug before anyone could even blink. To the patrons, it was as if nothing had happened.
Once outside, he activated his power again. "W-Where is Noen?" he said, his voice laced with desperation. He raised a finger to the level of his nose, his expression turning razor-sharp. "Enhance: Last Authority."
He took a deep breath, forcing the panic clawing at his ribs to stay buried. "Where is Noen? I want to know in ten seconds at the latest!"
His System flickered up, right before disappearing again, its glow reflecting for an instant across his tense face:
[Statement locked ✅]
In that exact moment, the voices of two people, a man and a woman both in their twenties, walking past filtered into the back of his mind.
"Did you hear?" the woman said. "That 'Minus-Stats' guy had a car accident. A colleague on duty told me. I wasn't on shift, so I didn't see it happen. Apparently, he and his mother are in the same room you were in when you had that concussion a few years back."
The man stopped briefly. "Really? You work at the LMU Clinic?"
"Yeah!"
"Wow, that's so cool. So they're in the ICU right now, Station I3, bed space... man, what was it again... 17?"
Suddenly, a massive Fushhhhh echoed through the street, and a cloud of dust erupted into the air. The two people shut their eyes tight and coughed against the grit. When they opened them again, the street was empty.
"What was that? And wasn't there just a young man standing right there?"
"Pfff... no idea." The woman shrugged. "Maybe I was just imagining things."
⸻
Noen's eyes darted around the dim, cramped confines of the cell until they landed on the figure chained right beside him. His heart skipped a beat. "You... you're the woman from the picture!" he blurted out, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls.
The young woman looked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "From the picture? What are you talking about?"
"Oh... nothing," Noen muttered, quickly looking away. Inside, his mind screamed.
–Shit! I should've known this could happen overnight, especially since they were clearly monitoring everyone here somehow!–
He turned back to her, lowering his voice. "Do you know where—"
"Well, look at this!"
The interruption cut through the air like a blade. A heavy set of footsteps approached, echoing with the rhythmic clink of metal on stone. A man stepped into view with a lit candle in his hand.
He looked to be in his mid-forties, but he carried himself with an arrogance that made him seem much larger. He was draped in opulence that felt vulgar in such an inviroment; thick gold chains hung around his neck, and nearly every finger bore a heavy, jewel-encrusted ring that glinted maliciously. His silk robes were clean — a stark, insulting contrast to the dust-covered prisoners.
He looked down at Noen through the bars, his lip curling into a sneer. "Who are you, boy?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescending smoothness. "You don't look like you're from around here."
Noen glared back through the iron bars, his voice defiant. "No, no, no. Who are you? And what's with these chains?"
The man looked at him with genuine outrage, as if the very act of Noen speaking were a crime. "How old are you, boy?"
"I'm not telling you!" Noen retorted, sticking his tongue out at him. "Just let us go first. What is all this even for? I didn't do anything!"
The man didn't react with anger; instead, he looked down at his perfectly manicured hands, admiring his rings. "I could also just kill you right now, you know... it's not like it matters."
Noen gulped, the reality of the situation sinking in. "I... I'm sixteen."
"Sixteen?" the man said, his voice rising in surprise. "You look younger. How perfect..."
"Perfect? For what?"
"You'll see soon enough," the man said, gripping the bars of the cell for a brief moment before turning and stepping out of sight.
The silence that followed was heavy.
"That man is an asshole," the young woman said to Noen, her voice rasping. "Just like everyone else here. Everyone is like that here."
Noen began to rattle his chains, pulling with all his strength, but they didn't budge an inch. They were reinforced with more than just iron. Exhausted, he looked over at his cellmate. "How long have you been here?"
"Two weeks," she said, her eyes hollow. "I'm Nura. And you?"
"Noen."
Noen looked around, straining his eyes to see past the iron bars of their cage, which was very difficult. They seemed to be in the only cell in the entire area. The space around them was massive and swallowed by a thick, oppressive darkness, except for one specific spot. Directly across from them, a stone staircase led up to a grand altar, illuminated by a single, sharp beam of light that cut through the gloom like a blade.
It was very quiet. Only their breathing could be heard.
"Where are we? Do you know?" Noen asked, his voice echoing in the hollow space.
Nura looked toward the glowing altar, her expression a mix of fear and reverence. "We're in Nahalith, the Holy Sandcat."