The city had a way of coming alive at night. Neon lights bathed the streets in hues of blue and pink, and the air was filled with the aroma of street food mingling with the faint tang of rain on asphalt. Emir, strolling through the heart of the marketplace, found himself drawn to its pulse. Vendors shouted over one another, hawking their wares, while performers gathered small crowds with their tricks.
But tonight, something felt different. The market wasn't just alive—it was restless.
---
The Silent Watcher
As Emir stopped at a stall selling hand-carved wooden figurines, he noticed a man loitering near a lamp post, his eyes fixed on Emir. He was dressed in a long coat, his face obscured by the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat.
Emir pretended not to notice, casually picking up a figurine of a lion. "How much?" he asked the vendor, an old woman with a toothy grin.
"Fifteen credits," she replied, but her voice wavered, her eyes darting nervously toward the shadowed man.
Emir handed her the credits, then leaned in as she bagged his purchase. "Do you know him?" he whispered.
The old woman shook her head quickly, almost fearfully. "He's been here all night. Watching."
Taking the bag, Emir gave her a reassuring smile before turning to leave. His instincts told him to keep walking, but curiosity urged him to glance back.
The man was gone.
---
A Familiar Face
Further into the market, Emir stumbled upon a familiar stall—one he hadn't seen since the day he gained his powers. The elderly vendor with the strange symbols on his cart was back, this time cooking up something that smelled even more enticing than before.
"Ah, the young man returns!" the vendor exclaimed, his lopsided grin as infectious as ever.
"Seems like your cart gets better every time I see it," Emir said, keeping his tone light.
The vendor chuckled. "You flatter me. Or maybe it's you who's changed, eh?"
Emir froze for a moment before replying, "What makes you say that?"
The vendor leaned in, his grin fading slightly. "The way you carry yourself. People like you… they don't stay ordinary for long."
Before Emir could press him further, a group of children ran up to the cart, shouting for snacks. The vendor turned his attention to them, leaving Emir with more questions than answers.
The symbols on the cart glowed faintly as Emir walked away.
---
The Noise of False Strength
Back at his apartment, Emir decided to dig deeper into the relic market. He opened a private forum rumored to be used by collectors and enthusiasts, a digital underground of fabricated powers and mystique.
One thread caught his eye: "Rising Star: The Man with Iron Skin."
The post detailed a supposed new relic bearer, someone who had allegedly survived a building collapse unscathed. Attached was a grainy video showing a man walking out of the rubble, brushing off dust.
Emir watched it twice. Something about the man's movements seemed… rehearsed. The collapse itself looked suspiciously like a controlled demolition.
"They're building a myth," Emir muttered to himself.
---
The Skill Tree's Whisper
Later that night, as Emir lay in bed, his skill tree appeared in his mind, glowing faintly. A new branch had unlocked: "Architect of Reality."
Its description read: Shape narratives to control perceptions. Craft the illusion of truth to serve your purpose.
The cost was, once again, 100 million credits.
Emir stared at the skill, a chill running down his spine. His power wasn't just about cashback or personal gain—it was about understanding and manipulating the fabric of belief itself.
---
The Resolve to Act
Emir sat up, the city lights filtering through his window. The world was a stage, and everyone around him was playing their part in a grand illusion. But he was different. He didn't just have a role—he held the script.
The watchers, the relics, the false powers—they were distractions. If he wanted to rise above it all, he would need to focus. Not on the lies, but on building something real. Something that would outlast even the grandest illusions.
And he had just the power to make it happen.