Isaac had always preferred quiet streets, early mornings, and keeping his head down. Today, none of that mattered.
A sudden crack split the sky above his city — a jagged line of violet and black tearing the clouds apart. The air shimmered like water, bending light in impossible angles. Before he could even react, a hulking figure stepped through the rift, a warrior clad in alien armor, its eyes burning with an unnatural hunger.
Isaac froze for a heartbeat, then instinct took over: he ran.
Concrete exploded behind him as the intruder's energy weapon sliced through the street. Shards of asphalt and sparks flew like fireworks. Isaac skidded around a corner, tripping over his own feet. Panic surged in his chest — every instinct screamed run, hide, survive.
Then it happened.
A strange warmth surged through him, almost like a memory that didn't belong to him. His muscles tensed, moving on their own. Isaac stumbled forward, then leapt with uncharacteristic grace, landing behind a dumpster with uncanny precision. He twisted and rolled, narrowly avoiding another blast.
Flashes of Irithel's presence tore through his mind: dual blades slicing through dozens of enemies, elemental energy igniting the battlefield, a battlefield awareness so precise it felt almost supernatural. Isaac gasped, stumbling as the images faded. His heart pounded. What… what just happened?
From the rift, another wave of warriors poured through, each one stranger, deadlier than the last. Isaac's first thought was to run — but the flash had shown him something: he could survive if he moved differently, if he used instinct and wit. He ducked behind a shattered car, rolling it to block a corridor, and scrambled toward a side alley.
His breath came in ragged gasps. He barely registered the sensation of energy flickering at his fingertips, small sparks dancing as if eager to obey him. The resonance was fading, but the message was clear: he could fight — if he had to.
Isaac didn't stop running, but for the first time, fear mingled with something else: a glimmer of power, a spark of hope. He didn't understand it, didn't know where it came from — only that he couldn't stay in one place. The city around him was no longer his home; it was a battlefield, and he was the prey.
And somewhere, far beyond his perception, the Ethereal Soul stirred, sensing its new bearer. Across dimensions, eyes turned toward him, and the hunt had officially begun.