Chapter 2 — The Edge of Humanity
The ruins of Asterhold Prime were a labyrinth of jagged concrete and twisted steel. Fires burned in the distance, casting shadows that moved like living things. 24 crouched atop a crumbled overpass, the ash-filled wind whipping short strands of black hair across his face. His eyes—steel gray, sharp as broken glass—scanned the streets below. Every muscle in his lean, honed body was coiled like a spring, ready to strike, vanish, or vanish and strike again.
The girl came into view first. She stumbled through the wreckage, no older than ten, with dirt-smudged skin and wide, terrified amber eyes. Her brown hair clung to her sweat-streaked cheeks. The way she froze at the sight of a corpse half-buried in rubble told him she was alive—and that she would be easy prey for the EGI patrol approaching.
24's blades gleamed in the flickering light. The long one ran from his shoulder to his knee, thin but unyielding; the shorter, half-length blade was strapped to his hip, its edge wickedly sharp, designed for rapid strikes. He flexed his fingers around the hilts. The faint pulse of the void ran through him, restless and hungry.
The patrol emerged from the shadows, three EGI operatives in black combat armor. Their visors glowed red, scanning for heat signatures, weapons drawn, movements precise.
He exhaled slowly. Every instinct screamed at him to teleport, strike, and vanish. But the girl was in the open, and instinct and obedience collided with something foreign: hesitation.
The first operative raised a pulse rifle. The second moved to flank her. The third crouched low, scanning for escape routes.
24's hand gripped the short blade. He blinked.
One moment he was behind the flank, spinning the blade in a deadly arc. Metal screamed, flesh screamed, the smell of burning nerves and scorched synthetic armor filled the air. Another blink, and he intercepted the rifle just as it fired, twisting the barrel with the long blade and sending the operative crashing into the rubble.
The girl screamed. He vanished again, appearing behind her, pulling her low against the debris. His chest rose rapidly, adrenaline coursing through lean, corded muscles. Ash stuck to the sweat on his skin, and the faint scars on his arms—reminders of past experiments—throbbed painfully.
The remaining patrol froze, disoriented by the chaos, their training unable to account for a shadow that moved through reality itself.
The void whispered again, low and insistent, names he could not remember, memories that were not his: Elias… Elias…
24 pressed a hand to his chest, steadying his breathing. The girl's eyes were wide with fear, and for the first time in years, he hesitated—not for his own life, but for hers.
The patrol blinked closer, weapons raised. The void pulsed beneath his skin, furious at his restraint. 24 flexed his fingers around his blades. Every fiber of his being screamed to obey the hunger.
But he did not.
Not yet.
He disappeared again, this time pulling the girl with him into the shadows. Behind them, chaos reigned—the patrol was left with mangled bodies, scorched armor, and whispers of a ghost they could neither see nor comprehend.
And somewhere above, in a surveillance tower glowing red in the ruined skyline, the EGI had already marked him: Subject 24—danger level: maximum. Containment priority: lethal.
24's gray eyes narrowed. His pulse slowed. The void hummed, patient, waiting. He let the girl cling to him, her trembling small and fragile against his lean, scarred frame.
For the first time in years, he felt it: responsibility.