The neon signs of District 8 flickered with a rhythmic hum, casting long, jittery shadows across the pavement. Inside The Heavy Crab, the air smelled of stale grease and industrial-grade lemon cleaner.
Kenzo wiped down the last counter, the circular motion of his arm rhythmic and practiced. He was tired, the kind of deep-seated ache that settled in the bones after a double shift, but he didn't mind. Work was a distraction from the quiet of an empty apartment.
"Closing up, Mr. Grant," Kenzo called out, tossing the rag into a bucket.
A man with a kind, weathered face poked his head out from the office. "Good lad. Get home safe, Kenzo. Don't let those late-night alleyways swallow you whole."
Kenzo flashed a small, tired grin, grabbing his jacket. "I've got the reach on most of them, boss. See you tomorrow."
The night air was crisp, biting at his lungs as he hopped onto his bike. He pedaled through the familiar maze of District 8, his tires clicking against the asphalt. He was halfway home when a sudden thought struck him like a physical blow to the chest.
The exam notes.
He'd promised to drop them off for a friend. He skidded to a halt near a weathered park bench, the metal cold under his touch. He leaned his bike against the slats and unzipped his bag, rummaging through a mess of textbooks and boxing wraps.
Then, the world went silent.
The ambient noise of the city, the distant sirens, the hum of the grid, simply vanished. A sudden, unnatural breeze brushed past the back of his neck. It wasn't cold, it felt wrong, like the air itself was curdling. Kenzo spun around, his fists tightening instinctively.
Nothing. Just an empty street bathed in the sickly yellow of a streetlamp.
He turned back to his bag, but before he could even reach for his notes, the silence was shattered.
BOOM.
The sound was immense, a concussive force that rattled his surroundings. It came from the direction of the restaurant. Kenzo didn't think. He didn't even grab his bag. He threw himself onto his bike and pedaled with a desperate, frantic strength.
When he arrived, the storefront of The Heavy Crab was a jagged maw of shattered glass.
"Mr. Grant!" Kenzo yelled, leaping off the bike before it even stopped moving.
He stepped over the threshold, his boots crunching on glass. The interior was a disaster zone. Tables were overturned, and the heavy industrial fridge had been moved inches, as if by a giant's hand. He reached for his pocket, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Empty.
The bag. My phone is in the bag.
He looked at the floor. An analog clock lay in the debris, its glass cracked but the gears still whirring. 11:49 PM. Mr. Grant never left before midnight.
A strange, flickering light pulsed from the kitchen. It wasn't the warm orange of a gas fire; it was a cold, sickly violet that seemed to swallow the shadows. Kenzo crept toward the swinging doors, his breath coming in shallow hitches. He reached out and grabbed a chef's knife from the magnetic strip on the wall. The polished steel reflected his silver eyes, wide, alert, and terrifyingly sharp.
He pushed the door open.
"Mr. Grant?" he whispered.
The man was on the floor, his white apron stained a deep, visceral crimson. He was breathing, but it was the wet, ragged sound of someone losing the fight.
Kshhhhh....
The sound was like a radio tuned to a dead frequency. Static. Pure, soul-grating static.
Kenzo looked up.
Hanging from the ceiling rafters was a nightmare made manifest. It looked human, but only in the way a child's frantic scribble looks like a person. Its limbs were elongated, its skin shifting like liquid ink, and where a face should have been, there was only a blurring hole in reality.
The creature dropped.
Kenzo's survival instinct took over. He didn't think, he acted. The creature's clawed hand whistled past his ear, slamming into the tile with enough force to crater the floor. Kenzo rolled, coming up in a crouch against the back exit.
"What... what are you?" Kenzo's voice was a low growl. He held the knife out, his knuckles white. "What did you do to him?"
The creature twisted its head. Its response was a spike in the static noise, a screech that felt like a needle being driven into Kenzo's eardrums.
It moved with a sickening, twitching speed. It lashed out with an arm that stretched like pulled taffy. Kenzo ducked, the air from the swing ruffling his hair. He saw an opening, a straight shot to what looked like a torso. He lunged, driving the kitchen knife with everything he had.
The blade passed through the creature as if it were smoke.
Kenzo's momentum carried him forward, his eyes widening in disbelief. How?
Before he could recover, the creature's arm hardened into a jagged spike. It swung backward, catching Kenzo in the shoulder.
The pain wasn't immediate, it was a cold numbness that suddenly erupted into a searing white heat. Kenzo was thrown across the alleyway, slamming into a brick wall. The knife clattered away. He looked at his arm, it was shredded, the blood hot and heavy. He tried to move, but his limbs felt like lead.
He looked toward the kitchen door, toward Mr. Grant. A wave of crushing shame washed over him. I couldn't do anything.
The creature turned its neck 180 degrees, the static growing louder, more predatory. It crouched, preparing for the kill.
Step. Step.
The sound of boots on metal.
Kenzo looked up. A hooded figure stood on the roof of the restaurant, silhouetted against the pale moon.
A beam of blinding energy descended from the sky. It hit the creature with the force of a falling star, sending the creature tumbling back into the wall.
"Target secured," a calm, masculine voice rang out.
The hooded figure dropped from the roof, landing with impossible grace. He looked back at Kenzo, his face obscured. "Get him out of here."
"On it! Hurry up and take that thing out, Hans!"
A girl dropped down from the opposite ledge. She had short, dark hair and yellow eyes that burned with a fierce intensity. She didn't wait for Kenzo's permission, she slung his good arm over her shoulder and began hauling him away.
"Who are you?" Kenzo gasped, his vision blurring. "What... what is that thing?"
"It's a Remnant," she snapped. "And you're a civilian who's lucky to be breathing. Stay quiet."
"Watch out!" Hans shouted.
The Remnant let out a deafening screech, its body bloating as it charged. One arm shifted, sharpening into a massive, jagged blade.
The girl dropped Kenzo and thrust her hands forward. "Lunar Shell!"
A shimmering, silver barrier of energy erupted in front of them. The Remnant's blade slammed into it, creating a shower of sparks that illuminated the dark alley.
"Sit there and don't move," she commanded, not looking back.
Kenzo could only watch as the two moved in a blur of motion. Hans drew a weapon—a long, elegant polearm that hummed with a strange, external resonance. He moved with precision, his blonde hair catching the light as he pierced the Remnant's flank.
"Naomi, get the other one!" Hans called out, spotting Mr. Grant's body on the ground. "He's still alive. Move him before the fallout hits!"
Naomi sprinted toward the man, but she was too late.
The Remnant planted its feet and let out a sound that wasn't a screech, it was a shockwave. A frequency so high it bypassed the ears and vibrated the brain.
Hans staggered, dropping his polearm and clutching his head. Naomi collapsed to one knee, her silver barrier shattering like glass.
But Kenzo... Kenzo felt nothing. The sound was just noise to him.
He saw the Remnant raise a massive chunk of concrete, aiming it directly at the downed Hans. Then, it turned its other arm, now a long, thin needle, and drove it through Naomi's leg as she tried to crawl toward Mr. Grant.
Move.
The word echoed in Kenzo's mind.
Move!
I've been waiting for this. To be someone who matters.
He forced himself up. The pain in his arm was gone, replaced by a strange, white-hot static that began to hum in his veins. He sprinted across the alley, his feet barely touching the ground. He grabbed the polearm Hans had dropped.
The weapon was heavy, but as Kenzo gripped it, the air around him began to warp.
"I don't know what you are," Kenzo growled, his eyes glowing with a faint aura. "But if you hurt them, you're my enemy."
He leaped.
It wasn't a normal jump, it was a propelled burst of speed. He brought the polearm down in a massive arc, the head of the weapon glowing with a jagged, unstable energy.
CRACK.
The blow caught the Remnant square in the head, driving it into the dirt.
"The chest!" Hans yelled, his voice strained. "Hit the chest!"
The Remnant roared, swinging the concrete block. Kenzo didn't slip, he parried it. The polearm hummed, the energy redirecting the force of the concrete back at the monster.
Naomi, gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, held her hands out. A beam of pure energy erupted from her palms, slamming into the Remnant's side and forcing its chest open.
"NOW!" she screamed.
Kenzo didn't hesitate. He drove the polearm forward with every ounce of his power, twisting his body and putting his entire soul into the thrust.
The tip of the spear pierced the "hole" in the creature's chest.
For a second, the world stood still.
"Wait, move out of the way!" Hans's voice was a frantic blur.
The Remnant, in its final micro-second of existence, converted its entire mass into a single, needle-thin spike.
Thwack.
The spike drove through Kenzo's chest.
The creature dissolved into black ash, drifting away on the wind as if it had never been there.
Kenzo stood for a moment, the polearm still in his hand. He looked down at the hole in his shirt, at the blood that was beginning to blossom like a dark flower. He felt light. Unbearably light.
I protected them, he thought.
He collapsed.
Hans and Naomi scrambled toward him. Hans knelt over him, his face pale as he inspected the wound. The damage was catastrophic.
"We have to leave," Hans said, his voice returning to that detached, cold tone. "The cleaners will be here in five minutes. This area is compromised."
Naomi snapped her head toward him, her eyes wet with anger. "Leave him? Are you insane? He just saved our lives, Hans!"
"He's a civilian, Naomi. Casualty is part of the job. We can't save everyone."
"He's not a civilian!" Naomi shouted, pointing at the dissipating energy still clinging to Kenzo's skin. "Look at him! He moved in the screech! He used your weapon!"
Hans paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the dying boy. He reached out, sensing the faint, jagged pulse of energy.
"Distorted energy..." Hans whispered. "I didn't know other Evos existed outside the core."
He looked at Naomi, then back at the unconscious Kenzo.
"Fine," Hans said, his voice heavy with the realization of the trouble this would cause. "Pick him up. We're taking him back."