---
Kaelen's breath was steady as he moved deeper into the alley, his body aching from the recent encounter, but his mind sharp as ever. The wounds he'd sustained were superficial—a cut along his cheek, a singed shoulder, but nothing debilitating. His muscles hummed with the leftover adrenaline, his eyes constantly scanning the streets around him.
The Voice, ever-present, seemed both amused and irritated.
"You could've finished them faster. You're holding back."
Kaelen clenched his jaw. He knew the Voice was right. In his years at the facility, he'd been taught to dispatch targets quickly and efficiently. The attack on the twins had been far from his best work.
Still, the encounter had shaken him. Not the fight itself—he'd been in worse situations, seen more brutal things—but the knowledge that superhumans were beginning to notice him. The fact that the twins had specifically targeted him meant he was already on someone's radar, and he didn't even know whose. They might come back… or they might send more. Either way, he'd have to be prepared.
He slipped through the alleyways like a shadow, moving toward the small, dimly lit apartment he'd rented with the money from the Krystal sale. As he walked, his mind returned to the battle.
Every move was replayed in his head.
When the first twin had attacked, her dark energy had reminded him of *Abyssal Energy Manipulators* from his training days, those elite soldiers at the facility who could tap into strange, otherworldly energies. He remembered how his instructors had drilled into him the importance of keeping low, staying close, and minimizing the opponent's range of attack. He could almost hear them shouting orders at him in his memories.
"Keep your stance tight, Kaelen! Don't give them room to breathe!"
He'd done that. Every attack had been intentional—targeting weak points like the ribs and knees, using his speed to overwhelm them.
But his body moved on instinct. Years of discipline meant his fists knew the perfect angles and targets. He replayed the moment when he had used a Thai clinch to trap one of the twins, his knee smashing repeatedly into her abdomen. *Maybe next time*, he thought, *I should mix it up—add a spinning elbow or even a flying knee if I can build enough momentum.* His mind raced with strategies for future fights.
Still, there had been no elegance in that fight. It had been brutal, savage—just survival.
But he wasn't done.
---
Kaelen's small room smelled faintly of mildew and stale air. It was cramped but functional, and most importantly, anonymous. He set the duffel bag with the remaining Krystals down beside the bed. The money was hidden in a vent under the floorboard—his military mind always prepared for an emergency escape. He sat down, his body heavy with the day's exertions.
He took a deep breath. He'd made it out of the warehouse. The Krystals were sold. Now… what next?
The Voice was back, like a whisper under his skin. "You're playing small games here, Kaelen. Petty thieves. Small change. If you want real power, you'll need to go after something more... substantial."
Kaelen gritted his teeth. He'd learned to ignore the Voice's provocations, but this time, there was something in its tone that caught his attention.
"You still haven't told me why you waited until now to mention my mother. Or this inheritance," Kaelen said, his voice low, strained.
The Voice chuckled, a dark, soft rumble. "Because, my dear Kaelen, you weren't ready. You were a prisoner. No freedom, no will of your own. But now, you have choices. And it's time you learned what you really are."
Kaelen's fist tightened. "What I am? And what the hell does that have to do with an inheritance?"
There was a long pause, a silence that seemed to stretch between them, and for the first time, Kaelen felt something almost like hesitation from the Voice.
"Your mother left you more than just a name, Kaelen," it finally said. "She left you a legacy. But that legacy is locked away—on an island, far from here. And you'll need more than just money to reach it. You'll need to fight."
Kaelen's heart pounded. "Fight who?"
But the Voice didn't answer directly. Instead, it whispered, "THE WHOLE WORLD, Kaelen. Those with power far beyond yours. But not just that. You'll have to outsmart them. And when you reach the island… you'll learn the truth about why they hunted you."
Kaelen's jaw clenched. He'd already figured out that the facility wasn't the end of his torment. But now, it seemed, his family had more secrets than he'd ever imagined.
"I can help you, Kaelen. I've always helped you. But you need to trust me."
Kaelen shook his head, feeling a mixture of frustration and suspicion. "Why didn't you tell me this before? Why wait until I escaped? Until now?"
The Voice chuckled again, dark and cold. "Because now… you're strong enough to survive what's coming."
Kaelen's mind spun. He didn't trust the Voice—not entirely. But it had never lied to him before. Every decision he'd made, every brutal tactic, every escape… the Voice had been there, guiding him.
And now it was telling him about an inheritance? A legacy? He needed to know more. But first, he needed money. He needed an identity. Clothes. A way to move through the city without being noticed.
"Alright," Kaelen muttered to himself. "One thing at a time."
He cracked his neck and stood, moving to the small desk in the corner where an old laptop hummed quietly. He had to find a way to sell more Krystals. The money from the warehouse job was a start, but it wouldn't last. And the streets weren't safe—not with people like those twins prowling around.
His fingers flew over the keyboard, searching for contacts, names, any clue about the underworld's dealings in Krystals. He had no idea who ran the city's black market, but he'd figure it out. He always did.
As he worked, his thoughts flickered back to the warehouse. The gang. The Twins
---
Hours passed, the dim light of dawn starting to creep in through the cracks in the blinds. Kaelen stretched his sore muscles, feeling the dull ache in his arms and legs. He hadn't found much useful information yet—just rumors, vague whispers about underground fights and illegal Krystal trades.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. His body was covered in scars—reminders of his past life in the facility. He ran his hand over a particularly deep one across his forearm, a flash of memory pulling him back to a moment two years ago.
A mission. A city like this one, filled with civilians. His orders had been clear: eliminate the target. But the target had been hiding in a crowded marketplace, surrounded by innocents. Kaelen had hesitated for just a moment.
And in that moment, everything had gone to hell.
He shook his head, pushing the memory away. He couldn't afford to dwell on the past. Not now. Not when there was so much at stake.
"Get some rest, Kaelen," the Voice whispered. "You'll need your strength for what's coming."
Kaelen nodded, his eyes heavy. He closed the laptop, setting it aside as he lay back on the bed. Sleep didn't come easily, but eventually, the exhaustion overtook him, pulling him into restless dreams of fire, pain, and blood.
---
Elsewhere in the city...
A dimly lit office sat at the back of a club—slick, modern, the walls lined with expensive artwork and liquor. A man sat behind a sleek black desk, his sharp eyes scanning the reports in front of him. His suit was immaculate, tailored perfectly to his muscular frame, and his expression was unreadable.
He glanced up as the door to his office opened.
The twins entered, their faces bruised, bloodied. One of them winced as she moved, holding her side where Kaelen's knee had connected. The other limped slightly, her eyes blazing with anger.
The man behind the desk didn't speak immediately, just watched them, his fingers steepled in front of him.
Finally, he spoke, his voice calm, measured. "I hear there was an incident at the warehouse."
The twins exchanged a glance before one of them stepped forward, her voice laced with frustration. "It wasn't just an incident, Void. Some guy—just a normal kid—he took us down. Sold Krystals, too."
The man—Void—raised an eyebrow. "A normal human did that to you?"
The twin's jaw tightened. "He wasn't normal. He fought like… like one of the Elite soldiers. But he didn't use any powers. Just… skill."
Void leaned back in his chair, considering this information carefully. "Interesting."
He stood, moving toward the window that overlooked the neon-lit streets below