The knock at the door was firm, deliberate. Not the careless tap of a neighbor or the impatient rapping of a deliveryman. Someone was looking for him.
His pulse steadied. He was no longer the man who had died in the last timeline. This time, he was prepared. Cautious. Calculating. Dangerous.
He reached out with his spatial awareness, feeling the presence beyond the door. A single figure, heartbeat steady, posture relaxed but ready to move at a moment's notice. This wasn't an ordinary visitor.
He stepped forward, twisting his fingers subtly. The space between the door and the hallway warped, a fraction of a second distortion, preparing for an ambush if necessary.
With a deep breath, he turned the knob.
A man stood outside—late thirties, broad shoulders, sharp eyes that scanned him instantly. His stance screamed military or at least someone well-versed in combat.
"Morning," the man said, voice level, assessing. "You look better than expected."
His eyes narrowed. "Do I know you?"
The man smirked. "Not in this timeline."
A cold sensation shot down his spine. His grip on space tightened instinctively. "Explain."
The man lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm here as a messenger. There's someone who wants to meet you. Someone who knows about the coming catastrophe."
His mind whirred. The number of people who were aware of the Energy Universe's approach at this stage should be zero. No one should have had the foresight to act yet. Unless...
"Who sent you?"
The man's smirk didn't fade. "I'll tell you if you agree to come with me."
Dangerous. But also an opportunity.
He had planned to make his first move by securing resources, identifying key figures, and laying low until the right moment. But if someone else already knew about the catastrophe...
He glanced at the man's stance again. Relaxed, but not careless. This was someone who had seen battle.
"Fine," he said, stepping out and shutting the door behind him. "Lead the way."
They walked through the city, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the streets. The world looked so normal, blissfully unaware of the storm looming over it.
The man led him to an underground parking lot, stopping in front of a nondescript black sedan. He opened the door, gesturing for him to enter.
He slid inside. The interior was clean, expensive, and more importantly—shielded from surveillance. Whoever had sent for him had money and foresight.
The car started, and within minutes, they were moving through back streets, avoiding major routes. A professional's touch.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"You'll see," the man replied, eyes fixed on the road.
He leaned back, calculating. A hidden force moving this early meant one of two things: Either they were preparing for the energy impact, or they wanted to control those who would become powerful.
Neither option was particularly comforting.
Thirty minutes later, the car pulled into an abandoned industrial complex. Rusted buildings, overgrown vegetation, the scent of damp concrete—it was the perfect place for a clandestine meeting.
The driver stepped out first, scanning the area before giving him a nod. He followed, stepping onto cracked pavement.
A metal door creaked open in the distance. Footsteps echoed. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows.
A woman. Late twenties. Silver hair, sharp golden eyes, clad in a tactical suit that screamed efficiency over aesthetics.
"You're earlier than expected," she said, her voice cool and measured.
He studied her. There was something unsettlingly precise about the way she moved, as if she had mapped out every possible scenario before even stepping into this conversation.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She smiled faintly. "Someone who prefers to be ahead of the curve. And right now, you're an anomaly in my calculations."
He crossed his arms. "You knew about the impact before it happened."
Her eyes glinted. "Did you think you were the only one?"
A dangerous revelation. If there were others who had knowledge of the future—or worse, people who had survived and returned like him—his entire plan had to shift.
"Why bring me here?"
She took a step forward. "Because I need to know where you stand. The world is going to change, and I refuse to let chaos dictate the outcome. If you're as valuable as my intel suggests, we can work together."
His gaze didn't waver. "And if I refuse?"
She shrugged. "Then I'll have to decide whether you're an ally or a threat."
A test. A dangerous one.
He had two choices: Play along, gain information, and determine whether she was a useful ally—or refuse and turn this meeting into a battle.
He exhaled slowly.
"For now," he said, "let's talk."