Chapter 6: Whispered Warnings and Rooftop Critics
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the bustling city. In a quiet alley, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, Aryan leaned against a crumbling wall, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"I guess this city isn't so boring after all," he murmured, watching the last traces of sunlight fade. His fingers danced in the air as a shimmering copy of himself emerged beside him, stretching like it had just woken up from a nap.
"Still too easy," he said softly, letting the copy dissolve into sparkles. "Maybe I'm overdoing it."
Just then, a faint, sharp sound pierced the air—a whistle, low and deliberate. His eyes narrowed as he turned toward the alley's entrance. A shadowed figure stood there, casual yet alert, as if they had been tracking him for a while.
"You must be new," Aryan called out, his voice light but curious. "Most people don't bother sneaking up on me. Unless they're delivering free food—are you?"
The figure stepped into the light—a woman with sleek black hair tied in a loose ponytail. Her eyes glinted with curiosity, but there was no fear. Interesting.
"You're not exactly subtle," she replied, her tone measured. "Someone with abilities like yours? Word gets around."
He chuckled quietly. "Guess I need to work on my low profile. Though, if you're giving out sneak-up awards, I'd like to thank my fans."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "We'll see. The Guild's curious about you. I'm here to deliver a message."
The MC tilted his head. "Guild? Sounds official. Should I be worried? Or do I get a welcome gift basket?"
"It's not an invitation." Her eyes sharpened. "They're giving you a warning. Keep your powers under control—or they'll step in."
For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken challenges. Then, he pushed off the wall, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance.
"Fair enough," he said quietly. "I don't want trouble—but I won't let anyone push me around either."
Without waiting for her reaction, he turned and strolled out of the alley. Another copy of himself shimmered into existence, falling in step beside him.
"Think they'll come after me?" the copy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe," Aryan replied. "If they do, they better bring snacks."
The copy snorted. "Or at least better sneaking skills. Seriously, if this is the best they've got, I might start grading them. This one gets a solid B-minus."
He laughed under his breath. "Generous. I was thinking a C-plus—no flair."
The city lights flickered as the night deepened, and somewhere in the distance, another shadow stirred—unseen, but watching. But even as the world moved against him, Aryan only felt curiosity rising.
A flicker of thought crossed his mind. "If they do come, at least things will get interesting."
His copy nudged him with an elbow. "You know, you could always tone it down. Lay low. Maybe take up knitting."
"Knitting?" he echoed, shaking his head. "I'd stab myself with the needles out of boredom."
"Hey, could be useful. Imagine—knitted traps. Ambush with a surprise sweater." The copy grinned. "Fear the scarf of doom."
"I think I'll stick to my powers," Aryan replied dryly. "Less yarn, more fun."
As they rounded a corner, the streetlights flickered again. He paused, glancing toward the rooftops where a faint silhouette shifted. Another observer?
"Friend of yours?" the copy asked.
"Doubt it." His voice was thoughtful. "They've been watching for a while. Either they're patient—or really bad at taking a hint."
"You should send them a 'Thank you for stalking me' card." The copy grinned. "Maybe with a gift basket."
"Maybe." He shook his head, pushing the thought aside for now. "Or, I could let them sweat a bit longer."
The copy squinted toward the silhouette. "Hmmm. Steady posture, decent rooftop perch... I'd say B-plus. Better than the last one—at least they're not whistling."
The MC chuckled. "Yeah, but they lose points for being too obvious. B-flat."
The city stretched out before him—bright lights, endless possibilities. Whatever came next, one thing was certain: he wouldn't be bored.