Rain poured relentlessly over the city, drowning the streets in a restless symphony of water and distant thunder. The neon lights flickered against puddles, their reflections breaking apart with every ripple—just like the life Aren Voss had grown used to.
Messy. Unstable. Forgettable.
He staggered through a narrow alley, one hand pressed tightly against his ribs as pain pulsed through his body with every step. His breathing was uneven, sharp—each inhale cutting deeper than the last.
Behind him, laughter echoed.
Not the kind that carried joy.
The kind that hunted.
"Oi, Aren!" a voice shouted, followed by the sound of footsteps splashing through water. "Why are you running? We're not done yet."
Aren didn't turn back.
He already knew what he'd see.
Bruised faces twisted in amusement. Eyes filled with that same cruel excitement he had seen too many times before. To them, this wasn't violence—it was entertainment.
And he was the show.
His legs felt heavier with every step, his strength draining faster than he could endure. Still, he pushed forward, as if running could somehow change the ending.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
It never did.
A sharp blow struck his back before he could react.
Pain exploded through his body as he crashed to the ground, the cold water soaking into his clothes instantly. His vision blurred, the world spinning as rough hands grabbed his collar and forced him up.
"Look at you," one of them sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Still trying to act tough?"
Aren said nothing.
What was there to say?
Every word he had ever tried to speak had been crushed long before it could matter.
Another punch landed. Then another.
Each strike felt distant, as if his body was slowly disconnecting from reality. The pain was still there—but it was fading, replaced by something else.
Something… quieter.
"You're pathetic," the voice continued, but it sounded far away now. "People like you don't deserve to—"
The words stopped.
Not because they chose to.
But because something changed.
Aren's vision, once clouded and dim, began to darken—not like unconsciousness, but like the world itself was being swallowed whole.
The rain slowed.
The sound disappeared.
Even the pain…
…vanished.
And then—
A voice echoed.
Not from outside.
From within.
"Do you want to live?"
Aren's heart trembled.
The question wasn't loud, yet it carried a weight that crushed everything else into silence. It wasn't just heard—it was felt.
Deep inside his bones.
He tried to speak, but no words came out.
Did he want to live?
The answer should have been obvious.
Yet all that surfaced were memories.
Being pushed. Being beaten. Being ignored.
Living like that…
Was that really living?
The voice spoke again, colder this time.
"Do you want power?"
Something stirred within him.
A flicker.
Weak, but real.
For the first time in his life, Aren didn't think about fear.
He thought about change.
About standing instead of falling.
About fighting instead of enduring.
His lips parted slightly, his voice barely a whisper—
"…yes."
Silence followed.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Darkness erupted.
It spread like ink through water, consuming everything around him. The alley, the rain, the people—everything dissolved into a void that pulsed with something alive.
Something ancient.
Something terrifying.
The voice returned, no longer distant.
Now it was right beside him.
"Then surrender."
Aren's body froze.
Not from fear.
But from instinct.
Because deep down—
He understood.
This wasn't a gift.
It was a contract.
And once accepted…
There would be no turning back.
The darkness wrapped around him, seeping into his skin, his veins, his very existence. It burned—not like fire, but like something rewriting him from the inside.
A scream tore through the void.
He wasn't sure if it was his.
When the world finally returned, the rain had not stopped.
The alley remained the same.
But something was different.
Aren Voss slowly lifted his head.
His eyes—
No longer human.
The ones who stood before him took a step back, their earlier confidence cracking into something unfamiliar.
Fear.
Aren stood up, his movements unnaturally calm.
The pain was gone.
In its place…
Was silence.
Cold.
Endless silence.
And within it—
Power.