The world hadn't changed.
Not on the surface, anyway.
Skyscrapers still cut the night sky like jagged teeth. Neon lights still buzzed, drowning the streets in artificial color. People still wandered like cattle, blind to the rot beneath the pavement, unaware that something ancient had started to stir again.
But Evan Crowe could feel it.
The air was heavier. The whispers louder. Mana, which once only lived in the world he bled for, now flickered here — faint but spreading, like cracks on glass.
He leaned against a rusted guardrail, overlooking a construction site in the lower districts. Below him: dirt, steel beams, and something more — an entrance. A sealed tunnel that wasn't on any map. Buried. Hidden. Forgotten.
Except Evan remembered it.
The Latchkey Facility.
One of the many places where they tried to make gods from broken men.
He still had scars from the testing. Not physical ones — those had long since healed. No, these were deeper. Etched into the marrow of his soul. The pain. The chanting. The darkness that whispered secrets only the damned understood.
And now, after all these years, someone was digging it back up.
He dropped down the scaffolding like a shadow, landing silently near a pile of crates. A breeze stirred the dust, bringing with it a stench he hadn't smelled since his days as a test subject: burned flesh and ozone. The kind of smell mana left behind when misused.
He stepped forward, eyes locked on the tunnel's edge.
A figure emerged from the dark.
"Didn't expect to see you here," a voice rasped.
Evan froze.
The figure stepped into the light.
Tall. Pale. Bald. A thin scar ran from his left brow to his chin. A long, dark coat billowed behind him, and under it, a chest full of glowing runes.
"Lennox," Evan muttered.
The man smiled, teeth yellow and sharp.
"I thought you were dead."
"I was," Lennox said. "You left me in that pit, remember? When the Ashborn attacked. You made it out. I didn't."
Evan tensed. He remembered. Vividly. They were both bleeding, cornered. He had to choose — and he chose himself.
"I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," Lennox replied. "And now I've made mine."
His hand twitched, and the runes on his chest flared.
Evan was already moving.
The ground exploded where he stood a second ago, sending debris into the air. He rolled, drew the dagger he kept sheathed against his spine, and threw it.
Lennox caught it mid-air.
"Still using toys?" he sneered.
Evan surged forward, fists wrapped in mana, driving a punch into Lennox's ribs.
The impact sent the man skidding back, but he didn't fall.
"You've gotten stronger," Lennox coughed, blood in his mouth. "But strength won't save you."
"I don't need saving," Evan growled. "I need answers."
Lennox laughed — broken, bitter.
"You're too late. Latchkey is active again. They're building Ascendants. You remember what that means?"
Evan's breath caught.
He did.
Ascendants — human vessels forcibly merged with entities from the Other Side. Not demons. Not gods. Something older. Something worse. Most hosts died screaming. The ones who survived… weren't human anymore.
"They're insane," Evan muttered.
"They're desperate," Lennox said. "And the worst part? They've succeeded. One survived. One Ascended."
A cold chill ran down Evan's spine.
"Where?"
"I'll tell you," Lennox said, wiping blood from his lip. "But not here. Not yet. You'll need help. Real help."
Evan hesitated. Trusting Lennox was like shaking hands with a viper. But if what he said was true...
"Fine. But try anything, and I'll finish what I started in the pit."
Lennox grinned.
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
They vanished into the shadows together.
Unseen. Unheard.
The city had no idea it was standing on the edge of something ancient and cruel.
But soon, it would.
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