The sky was a bruised void, the moon smothered behind thick, heavy clouds. A cold wind swept through the empty streets, carrying the distant, salt-heavy scent of the sea. The city had settled into its usual silence—at least, in the districts where people still bothered to follow the law.
Rein stood alone in the abandoned clearing behind the orphanage, his breathing coming in ragged, heavy bursts. His body was drenched in sweat, his thin shirt clinging to his skin like a second layer of exhaustion. One hundred push-ups. Two hundred sit-ups. A hundred sprints. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
He clenched his fists, frustration boiling in the pit of his stomach.
I can't stay like this, he thought, his vision blurring from effort. I have to get stronger. Fast.
The government exam would return in four months. If he failed again—if he remained this weak—he would never be able to stand on the same ground as Orin. He would be left behind, a shadow fading into the slums forever.
With a sharp, determined exhale, he crouched back down and prepared to sprint again. His legs burned, and his muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself forward.
It was well past midnight when Rein finally slowed his pace. His legs felt like leaden weights, and his throat was parched. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a trembling hand and leaned against a crumbling brick wall, staring up at the featureless sky.
Then—the silence broke.
Loud, aggressive shouting echoed from the next block over. It was the unmistakable, raw sound of a fight.
Rein exhaled, his first instinct to ignore it. Gang fights weren't rare in this part of the city; they were the heartbeat of the slums. It had nothing to do with him. He pushed off the wall, ready to head back to his cot.
Then he heard it.
A name. A gang name he would recognize in his sleep.
It was the same group that had been in the restaurant the night his parents died.
Rein's body froze. Them…? Here?
Before his logic could catch up, his feet were already moving. He slipped through the shadows of the alleyways, moving with a cautious, practiced silence until he was close enough to see the chaos.
It was a street war. Two rival gangs clashed in the open, the air thick with the smell of copper and adrenaline. Blades flashed under the dim streetlights, fists struck flesh with sickening thuds, and bodies collapsed onto the cold pavement.
The sight made Rein's stomach churn. It was too familiar. A memory surged, unbidden. The sound of breaking glass. The smell of spilled oil and alcohol. His mother's final, terrified glance. His father's firm grip on his wrist.
No… Don't think about it now.
He shook his head, trying to ground himself in the present. But as he shifted his weight, he stepped on a piece of rusted metal.
Clang.
One of the gang members spun around, his eyes locking onto Rein. The man was wounded, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, but his gaze was sharp and predatory. He gripped a long, jagged knife.
Rein's heart dropped into his stomach. The man moved.
Too fast!
The knife swung toward Rein's chest, a silver arc of death.
A split second before the blade could connect—something inside Rein snapped.
His vision blurred into a kaleidoscope of gray and black. His body moved on its own, responding to an instinct he didn't know he possessed.
Time slowed to a crawl.
He didn't know how, and he didn't know why, but the world suddenly twisted. In the next instant—he was standing behind the man.
The attacker stumbled forward, his momentum carrying him into the empty air where Rein had been standing only a heartbeat ago. The man spun around in sheer confusion, scanning the space behind him.
And Rein—Rein saw it.
A faint, flickering afterimage of himself was still lingering in the air, a ghostly silhouette that dissipated like smoke in the wind.
His eyes widened in shock. What…? What was that?
His heart pounded violently against his ribs. He hadn't jumped. He hadn't simply dodged. It felt as if something had pulled his body through the air at an unnatural, impossible speed.
But there was no time to process the mystery. More gang members were being dragged into the fray, and the circle of violence was widening. If he stayed a second longer, he would be caught in the crossfire.
Without hesitation, he ran.
And this time—his body felt different. Lighter. Faster.
He weaved through the narrow alleys, his movements instinctive and sharp. Each step felt as though his body was reacting before his mind could even form a thought. He wasn't just running anymore; he was moving with a fluidity that defied his years of failed training.
Rein didn't stop until the iron gates of the orphanage were in sight. He stood outside the entrance, panting, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven gasps. He stared down at his shaking hands, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
That wasn't normal, he realized, his mind racing. That wasn't just speed.
He clenched his fingers into a tight fist. I left an afterimage. That means… I…
A slow, sharp realization crept into his mind. Something had awakened deep within him during that moment of life and death. Something different. Something dangerous.
A volatile mix of fear and excitement stirred in his chest. He looked back at the dark city, the shadows no longer feeling like a threat, but like a beginning.
This… this changes everything.
End of Chapter 3