It started with small things.
A dealer got his stash stolen. A thug ended up in the hospital with broken ribs.People said a ghost was hunting the night streets.
But he wasn't a ghost.He was Xeno — the boy with nothing left to lose.
He struck from the shadows, silent and precise. A bottle smashed against the wall, a grunt, then silence. By morning, the troublemakers were gone.
The alley changed.Shop owners dared to open again. Kids started playing ball in the street.
And at the center of it all, under a flickering streetlight, stood Xeno.Not a hero. Not a savior.Just a broken soul guarding broken people.