She smiled through the blood.
"Run, Arin… Live. For me."
Her voice echoed.
He reached for her—
But she faded into smoke—
And he was falling—
Gasp!
He jolted awake.
The alarm screamed beside him. Arin slammed it off and sat up, breath ragged, drenched in sweat.
The same dream.
Every night.
It had been six months.
He was seventeen now. No longer in school. No longer the quiet boy who once stared out the window, wishing for change.
Now, he delivered food on a scratched-up electric bike, wearing a torn orange jacket with his name barely visible on the sleeve.
He lived in a government shelter — one of many built for teens orphaned by gate incidents.
They called it mercy.
He called it a cage.
Elsewhere…
Deep within the secure headquarters of the Gate Division, glowing screens buzzed with activity — surveillance feeds, dimensional scans, heat signatures pulsing across a digital map of the city.
One screen showed a blurry, golden figure standing over the corpse of a slain dungeon boss in the Deru District.
"Still no ID?" a technician asked.
Secretary Vale — tall, calm, with a silver streak in his dark hair — leaned closer.
"No record. No match. No registered awakened with power output that high."
He narrowed his eyes at the image.
"But that boy saved dozens of lives. Find him."
Arin kept his head down during deliveries.
Avoided cameras. Skipped crowded streets.
But he saw them — men in black coats, always a step behind. Pretending to talk on phones. Waiting in alleys.
They were watching him.
They wanted something from him.
He hadn't used his power since the restaurant.
Not even once.
The Grave
Days later, under a weeping sky, Arin walked the narrow path beyond the city.
Rain fell in cold, steady sheets. Not a storm — just the kind that soaked into your bones. The scent of wet earth filled the air, and puddles spread along the broken trail.
He didn't come here often.
It hurt too much.
But something pulled him today.
Beneath a bent tree, a small wooden marker leaned in the mud. The carved name was worn, almost erased by wind and time. The flowers he had left last were long dead.
Arin knelt beside the grave, water seeping through his jeans. He placed a single white flower down, tied with simple string — now damp and fraying.
"Hey," he whispered. "Sorry I haven't come. Been busy… surviving."
His voice cracked.
"I miss you. A lot."
The rain hid his tears. Or maybe it carried them.
He sat there, still, letting the cold settle into him. Letting the world go quiet — just the rhythm of rain and ache.
Then—
Footsteps.
He rose quickly, instinct tight in his chest.
A tall man stepped through the mist and rain. Black coat. Calm eyes. Hands behind his back.
Secretary Vale.
"We've been looking for you, Arin."
Arin's fists clenched.
"You've got the wrong guy."
"No. We found the only one who fought the Deru District boss… and lived."
"I didn't choose to fight."
"Maybe not," Vale said, voice steady. "But you did. You saved lives. That power inside you — it's real."
Arin looked down at the grave.
"I didn't save her," he said, quietly. "I had power… and she still died."
Vale nodded, rain dripping from his sleeves.
"I know what that feels like. I lost my family during the Rift collapse. I still see them in my dreams."
He took a slow step closer.
"But I chose not to run from it. I turned my pain into something that mattered."
Arin didn't look at him.
"Good for you. But I'm not you."
"You could be better," Vale said. "If you join us, we'll help you control it. Help others. Give your pain a purpose."
Arin took a step back.
"I don't want purpose," he said, voice trembling. "I want it to stop."
Vale's voice softened even more.
"You think hiding from it will make it stop?"
Arin stared at his shaking hands.
Then at the grave.
Then at Vale.
"I'm sorry… I can't."
And he turned.
Walking away — down the muddy path, away from the grave… away from the choice.
Vale didn't follow.
He just stood there, watching Arin vanish into the mist.
That Evening…
Arin sat on a park bench, alone. Head low. Delivery bag beside him.
He wasn't working. Just breathing.
The city felt strangely quiet.
Children played on swings. A little girl tugged her mother toward the slide.
Someone's old radio played a soft song from the 90s.
For a moment, Arin imagined himself disappearing into this normalcy — just a face in the crowd. Just a kid again.
Then—
BOOM.
The ground trembled.
A blast tore through the air. Car alarms screamed. Birds scattered in a flurry.
People froze. Then came the screams.
Smoke began rising — thick, dark — from between two distant buildings.
A second explosion hit — closer this time.
Arin jumped to his feet, eyes wide.
Cracks split the sky with a sound like shattering glass — glowing blue veins pulsing near the playground fountain.
A gate had opened.
Right in the park.
And something was coming through.
To Be Continued...