"Sam, I can't do this high-intensity work anymore," Henry said, chest heaving. He had only one minute of super strength left for today.
After that, he'd be like a fish on a cutting board.
Sam pushed himself up from the floor, fingers tightening around the wooden stake. His eyes never left the trickster.
"You guys still haven't learned," the Trickster said, turning toward them with lazy confidence. "You can't even touch me."
"We'll see," Sam replied.
"What he said," Henry added. He grabbed a broken seat from the wrecked rows and hurled it straight at Trickster with the last of his enhanced strength.
Trickster didn't even flinch. The chair sailed past him and crashed onto the stage in a burst of splinters.
He tilted his head, studying Henry with mild curiosity. "You sure you know where you're aiming?"
Henry exhaled slowly, a faint, determined look crossing his face. "My aim's never been great," he said. "But this time? I hit my mark."
The answer came a split second later.
A wooden stake exploded through his chest from behind.
Trickster's body jerked forward. He stared down at the wood protruding through him, blood spreading across his shirt.
"He was aiming at these pansies," Dean said from behind him, both hands still locked on the stake. The thrown chair had forced the women to shift, opening the angle Dean needed.
Trickster coughed, blood slipping past his lips. The smugness drained from his face as his knees buckled.
He hit the floor hard.
In the same breath, everything he'd created vanished. The women disappeared. The wrecked illusions faded.
Henry let out a long breath, strength fading from his limbs.
"Dean," he said, wiping sweat from his face, "don't you think we should've recorded the part where you were getting beaten by ladies in four pieces?"
Dean shot him a glare.
"Not a word," Dean said, pointing a warning finger at Henry.
Bobby stared down at the corpse. "This son of a bitch really played you boys like toys."
Dean exhaled slowly, wiping blood off his hands. "Yeah. No kidding."
Then he glanced at Henry. "Why did it take you so long to get here?"
Henry brushed dust off his jacket like that explained everything. "There was… a dog problem at his house."
Dean frowned. "A dog problem?"
Henry met his eyes evenly. "Four feet tall. Built like a tank. Tried to eat me."
Dean stared at him for a beat. "Of course it did."
"Well," Bobby said, glancing toward the auditorium doors, "we should clear out before campus security finds a body on the floor."
"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly, already moving.
Minutes later, the Impala's engine roared into life.
They pulled away from the college, tires humming against the empty road.
Back in the auditorium, the body lay silent.
Trickster's body remained where it had fallen for a long moment.
Then it flickered.
The corpse dissolved into thin air as if it had never existed.
A voice echoed faintly in the empty hall.
"These Winchester boys are really fun to play with."
A soft chuckle followed.
"And that third one… there's something off about him."
***
"Have to say, boy," Bobby said, studying Henry carefully, "you seem a little too comfortable in this job."
He had seen plenty of people get dragged into hunting. Most of them lost something first. Some lost family. Some lost themselves. Very few adjusted this fast.
That was why he was surprised.
Henry leaned back against the Impala, arms crossed loosely. "It's slightly hard," he admitted. "Getting slammed into walls isn't exactly my hobby. But I'm getting used to it."
Henry shrugged. "Most of the time I'm the one getting thrown around by ghosts, demons, or oversized dogs. So it's not like I'm dominating anything."
Bobby's eyes narrowed just a little. "Still."
Henry met his gaze evenly. "Look, I didn't grow up in this life. But I'm in it now. Panicking doesn't help. Complaining doesn't help. So I adapt."
Sam watched that exchange without interrupting.
Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. "He's got a point."
Bobby grunted, not fully convinced but not arguing either. "Just make sure you don't get too comfortable. This job has a way of collecting interest."
Henry gave a faint half-smile. "Yeah. I've noticed."
He wasn't naïve. The moment someone got comfortable in this life, something bigger came along to prove them wrong. Hunting wasn't routine. It was escalation.
As Bobby and the others continued talking, Henry's focus shifted inward.
The system interface flickered into view.
[Projection of Trickster eliminated.]
[Reward Granted: 15 Supernatural Points.]
[Uncommon Gacha Spin Available (25% chance )]
He selected the spin option.
A translucent wheel formed in his vision, segments rotating slowly before accelerating into a blur. Symbols flashed past—charms, weapons, strange icons he didn't recognize.
The wheel began to slow.
Tick.
Tick.
It stopped on a dark silver emblem shaped like a thin mask split down the middle.
Henry focused on the result, waiting to see what kind of trouble he had just earned.
The emblem flickered once and expanded into text.
[Item Acquired: Veilwalker's Glance]
[Type: Passive Perception Enhancement]
[Effect: Allows the user to momentarily perceive distortions in reality caused by illusion-based or projection-type supernatural entities. Activation is brief and drains mental focus.]
[Limitation: Cannot reveal true forms directly. Only highlights inconsistencies or layered constructs. Overuse may cause migraines or visual strain.]
Henry read it twice.
"So… anti-bullshit vision," he thought.
For a job like this—where they dealt mostly with ghosts and every other kind of unnatural nightmare—it was more than useful. It was perfect.
His points were climbing steadily—forty SP now. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before he could finally afford the angel fragment.
*****
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