Chapter 3: The Weight of Eyes
Volume 1: Earth Arc & Divine Awakening
Ryn Aelric woke to the sound of metal scraping metal, the shelter's barricade groaning under someone's clumsy repairs. His body ached, every muscle stiff from last night's surge in the warehouse, like he'd been stretched taut and snapped back. The memory of the Iron Vanguard scout's smirk, her dagger glinting as she called him "shadow," clung to him like damp rot. His eyes had glowed—amber, predatory, undeniable—and she'd seen it. If the Vanguard was sniffing around, he was running out of time to stay invisible.
The shelter was a dim haze of lantern light and restless bodies, the air thick with mold and the sour tang of unwashed fear. Fifty-odd survivors stirred on their cots, most Human Class like Ryn, their faces etched with the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than sleep could fix. A few low-tier Warriors and Mages, guild castoffs, lounged near the entrance, their patched cloaks a reminder of their half-hearted loyalty to this place. Ryn's gaze flicked to Elane's cot—empty again. She was probably tending the wounded, her healer's glow a faint beacon in the gloom. He needed to talk to her, to explain… something. But what could he say? That he was changing, that some system in his head was turning him into something else? She'd think he was losing it.
He sat up, wincing as his bruised knuckles brushed the cot's frayed edge. The warehouse test had left marks—his hands were tougher, the skin less raw than it should've been after denting that beam. Adaptive Physiology, the system had called it. He didn't know what it meant, but his body felt different, like it was learning to survive. The thought sent a shiver through him, equal parts thrill and dread.
A faint hum stirred in his skull, unbidden, like static crackling through his thoughts. Words flickered in his vision: Adrenal System: Neural Sync Active. Emotional Threshold Stable. Surge x10 Available. Ryn's breath caught. The system was always there now, watching, waiting. Last night's warning—Night Demon Protocol: Active. Legend Initiated—echoed in his mind. It felt less like a tool and more like a presence, nudging him toward a path he couldn't see.
"Ryn, you look like death," Jace said, slinking over with a lopsided grin. The wiry Human Class dropped onto a nearby cot, his scavenged jacket patched with duct tape. "Heard you were out late. Find anything good, or just more trouble?"
Ryn forced a shrug, keeping his voice casual. "Just scavenging. Nothing worth talking about." Jace was a friend, or close enough, but he had a habit of talking too much, especially to the wrong people. Like the guilds.
Jace leaned closer, his voice dropping. "People are talking about that shadow guy again. The one with the fire-eyes. Vanguard scout was here at dawn, asking questions. Said she saw someone take out three gate-lizards like it was nothing." His grin faded, his eyes searching Ryn's face. "You didn't see anything, did you?"
Ryn's stomach twisted, but he kept his expression blank. "Nope. Just monsters and ruins out there." He stood, brushing past Jace to avoid more questions. The scout was moving fast, spreading the rumor. If the Vanguard connected him to the "shadow," they'd drag him in—or worse, go after the shelter to flush him out.
He found Elane near the back, kneeling beside an older woman whose leg was bandaged, her face pale from a recent monster attack. Elane's hands glowed softly, her healing magic knitting torn flesh with agonizing slowness. She looked exhausted, her brown braid fraying, her green eyes shadowed. But when she saw Ryn, she managed a small smile. "You're up early. Thought you'd sleep through the chaos for once."
"Couldn't," Ryn said, crouching beside her. "Heard the Vanguard was here. What'd they want?"
Her smile vanished. "Same as always. Took more food, said it's for the dungeon raid. But I heard them talking about some vigilante. A 'shadow' killing monsters." Her eyes flicked to his, sharp and searching. "They're not happy, Ryn. They don't like competition."
His throat tightened. She didn't know it was him—not yet—but she was too damn perceptive. "They'll get over it," he said, forcing calm. "Probably just some rogue Mage showing off."
Elane's gaze lingered, like she could see through him. "Maybe. But you've been… different. Since last night. You're jumpy, and your arm—" She nodded at the faint scar where the wolf's gash had been. "It healed too fast, even for my magic. What's going on with you?"
Ryn's pulse quickened, the spark in his chest stirring. He wanted to tell her, to spill everything—the surge, the glowing eyes, the system's voice. But the words wouldn't come. She'd worry, or worse, try to stop him from chasing this power. "Just lucky, I guess," he said, hating the lie. "You're too good at this healing thing."
She snorted, but the concern didn't leave her eyes. "Don't dodge me, Ryn. If you're in trouble, I need to know. You're all I've got." Her voice cracked, and the guilt hit him like a punch. She'd lost her brother to a gate, just like he'd lost his parents. They were each other's anchor, and he was risking that by keeping secrets.
"I'm fine," he said softly, touching her shoulder. "Promise." Another lie, but it earned a reluctant nod.
The shelter's tension spiked by noon. Whispers of the "shadow" spread like wildfire, fueled by the Vanguard scout's visit. Ryn kept busy, hauling scrap to reinforce the barricade, but he felt eyes on him—Jace's, the other survivors', even the low-tier Warriors watching from their corner. He needed to get out, to test the surge again, to understand what he was becoming before the Vanguard closed in.
At dusk, he slipped away, telling Elane he was checking a nearby scavenging spot. She frowned but didn't argue, too busy healing a kid with a fever. Ryn headed back to the warehouse, its caved-in roof a dark silhouette against the green glow of the dungeon gate, now pulsing brighter in the distance. The streets were eerily quiet, the air heavy with the sulfurous stench of gate energy. He moved fast, sticking to alleys, his pipe tucked into his belt.
The warehouse was as he'd left it—moonlight spilling through broken beams, rusted machinery casting long shadows. Ryn stood in the center, closing his eyes, focusing on the spark in his chest. He needed to call the surge deliberately, to control it. Last night, anger had triggered it—anger at the Vanguard, at the monsters, at his own weakness. He summoned the feeling again, picturing the scout's smirk, the shelter's stolen food, Elane's tired eyes. The spark flared, hot and electric. Adrenal System: Surge x10 Available. Emotional Trigger: Anger. Engage?
"Yes," Ryn muttered, clenching his fists. The power surged, his vision sharpening, his muscles thrumming. He moved, vaulting over a crate with ease, his body lighter, faster. He punched a rusted beam, the metal denting under his knuckles, the pain fleeting. Neural Sync: Enhanced Reflexes Active. Adaptive Physiology: Strengthening. The system's voice was colder now, almost clinical, but it spurred him on. He struck the beam again, harder, and this time, his hand barely stung, the skin tougher, like leather hardening under fire.
He laughed, a shaky sound, exhilaration drowning his fear. This was real—power, actual power, in a world that called him nothing. He spun, swinging the pipe at an imaginary foe, moving faster than he'd ever thought possible. The system hummed again: Surge x12 Detected. Emotional Threshold Rising. The words felt like a warning, but he didn't care. He wanted more.
A crash broke his focus—metal clattering outside the warehouse. Ryn froze, pipe raised, his surge still active. Threat Detected. The system's voice was sharp, urgent. Footsteps crunched, not one set but several, deliberate and heavy. Not monsters—humans. Ryn's heart pounded as he slipped behind a stack of crates, his eyes scanning the entrance.
Three figures stepped into the moonlight, their cloaks marked with the Iron Vanguard's sigil—a clenched fist wreathed in thorns. The scout from last night led them, her dagger drawn, her dark hair glinting. Beside her was a Warrior Class, broad-shouldered, his hand on a longsword that glowed faintly with runes. The third was a Mage, her fingers crackling with sparks, her eyes scanning the shadows.
"There," the scout said, pointing to the dented beam. "He was here. I told you, he's no ordinary Human."
The Warrior snorted, his voice deep. "A Human Class killing gate-lizards? You're seeing ghosts, Kalia."
"I saw his eyes," the scout—Kalia—snapped. "They glowed, like a monster's. He's something else, Gavric's sure of it."
Ryn's blood ran cold. Gavric. The Iron Vanguard's leader, the one who'd let districts burn for profit. If he was interested, this wasn't just a patrol—it was a hunt. Ryn gripped his pipe tighter, the surge pulsing in his chest. Surge x15: Available. Engage? He could fight, maybe even win, but three against one, with a Warrior and a Mage? He wasn't ready for that.
"Spread out," Kalia ordered. "He's close. I can feel it."
Ryn's mind raced. Run, and they'd chase him back to the shelter. Fight, and he'd expose himself. The surge urged him forward, his anger at the Vanguard flaring, but he forced it down. He needed to be smart, not reckless. He slipped deeper into the shadows, moving silently, his Neural Sync sharpening his senses. The Mage's sparks lit the air, casting flickering light, but Ryn was already climbing a rusted ladder to the warehouse's upper level, his movements fluid, almost inhuman.
From above, he watched them search, his breath shallow. Kalia's eyes flicked to the ladder, narrowing. "Up there," she said, starting to climb. Ryn's heart lurched. The surge was fading, his body growing heavy, but the system hummed: Night Demon Protocol: Active. Evade or Engage. The words felt like a choice, a test.
He chose evasion. He leapt from the platform, landing softly on a pile of debris, and sprinted for a broken window. The Mage shouted, sparks flying, but Ryn was already outside, ducking into an alley. His eyes caught a puddle's reflection—amber, glowing, undeniable. He cursed under his breath, pulling his hood low as he ran.
Behind him, Kalia's voice rang out. "He's here! Find him!" The Vanguard's footsteps echoed, but Ryn was faster, his surge lingering just enough to keep him ahead. He didn't stop until he reached a ruined storefront, collapsing against a wall, his chest heaving. The system's voice returned, cold and final: Legend Initiated: Night Demon Sighted. Threat Level Rising.
Ryn leaned his head back, a grim smile tugging at his lips. The Vanguard was coming, and the shelter was in their sights. Whatever this Adrenal System was, it was his only shot to protect Elane, to protect everyone. He just had to figure out how to use it before they found him.