The city was burning by morning.
Not in the poetic sense—Edenridge is burning—but in the literal one. Columns of black smoke reached into the grey sky, oily and thick. Fire reflected in the glass bones of skyscrapers. Car alarms wept without rhythm. Gunshots came in twos and threes—then none. Then again. Scattered. Meaningless.
Kieran watched it all from the rooftop of an old four-story parking complex. Mira sat behind a stack of crates, knees hugged to her chest. She hadn't said a word since the alley.
He didn't push her.
She'd speak when the shock wore off. Or she wouldn't.
Didn't matter.
She wasn't dead. That already made her exceptional.
Kieran wasn't thinking about her.
He was watching the Gate.
It loomed above the southern edge of the city now—enormous, pulsing with dull crimson light. Like a storm caught mid-birth, frozen in time. Arcs of pale lightning webbed across it. Inside, nothing. Just swirling void.
Monsters weren't pouring out yet.
They would.
Soon.
But not yet.
This was the in-between time. The window. The only breathing space he would get.
His fingers brushed the hilt of the knife on his belt.
His only real weapon.
He needed more.
Cards. Gear. Allies, maybe. But only if they didn't slow him down.
His thoughts were cut short by a whisper of movement. A flicker of motion below.
He dropped into a crouch.
Three men emerged from the street, moving like rats—nervous, jittery. Not soldiers. Not civilians either. One carried a baseball bat wrapped in chain, the other had a stolen pistol, safety off. The last wore a backpack bulging with supplies.
Scavengers.
No, worse.
Wolves.
He'd seen them before—back in the first timeline. Regular people, broken fast. Not monsters yet, but trying their best.
They spotted Mira's backpack before they spotted her. That was enough.
Kieran was already moving.
He slid down the fire escape without a sound, feet landing soft on the asphalt. The shadows welcomed him—thick smoke, low light, the city's death mask. The men were moving up the stairs now, laughing.
"She's probably alone."
"Just a kid."
"Easy pickings."
Kieran moved behind the first one as he stepped onto the rooftop.
No words.
The knife entered beneath the ribs. A wet gasp. The man collapsed, weapon clattering from his hand.
The second turned, mouth open to shout.
Too slow.
Kieran slammed the hilt of his blade into the side of the man's temple, caught the gun before it dropped. The third froze—young, barely older than Kieran himself.
"Shit—shit, wait—!"
The barrel of the stolen pistol pressed against his forehead.
Kieran looked into his eyes and saw nothing worth saving.
Then the shot came—not from him, but from the rooftop.
Mira.
She stood behind the crates, eyes wide, arms trembling. Smoke curled from the pistol in her hands—the same one Kieran had just taken.
The last man crumpled, a red hole punched through his throat.
Mira fell to her knees, breathing hard.
Kieran looked at her, then down at the corpse.
The Card rose from the man's chest.
A Tier 0. Basic. Still worth taking.
[Card Acquired: Adrenal Surge (Passive)]The moment before death, you move faster.
He caught it as it floated near. The rush hit instantly—heat in his muscles, tension behind his eyes.
Useful.
He turned toward Mira.
She was staring at the body. Hands shaking. Pupils wide and glassy.
"I killed him," she whispered.
Kieran crouched beside her, took the gun gently from her grip, checked the magazine, then reloaded.
"You hesitated less than he did. That's why you're still breathing."
She looked at him like she didn't quite hear. Or didn't understand.
Kieran let the silence stretch. Let her process it.
This was how it always began.
First kill. First fracture.
He couldn't afford to coddle her. But he could teach her.
The same way the world had taught him—mercilessly.
By noon, they had shelter.
An abandoned bodega with a metal shutter still half-intact. Barricaded from the inside with overturned shelves. Not secure. But not exposed.
Kieran scouted while Mira rested. She hadn't spoken again.
That was fine.
He needed to move.
He searched five blocks. Avoided two Aberrants, bypassed a Feeder nest, spotted a drone—government issue. That meant someone was watching. But no aid drops. No announcements. Just surveillance.
Typical.
They were cataloguing the fall before they decided whether to intervene.
At the corner of an old bank, he found something better than food.
A corpse. Human. Mostly intact. Dressed in tattered riot gear. One arm missing. But his other hand still clutched something.
A Card.
Not floating.
Bound.
That meant the man died before it could be released. That also meant the bond could be broken.
Kieran knelt beside the body and closed his fingers over the shard.
It resisted.
A surge of pain flashed up his arm. His heart skipped.
But he didn't let go.
He pushed.
The pain grew—like something clawing into his bones.
Then it gave.
The world pulsed.
[Card Acquired: Echo Step (Active)]Leave behind a flicker of yourself. Move again before the world catches up.
His breath caught.
That was a rare one. Not high Tier, but high utility. Movement skills were gold.
He stood up.
Somewhere behind him, another siren died.
He looked back toward the horizon.
The Gate had grown.
It was the size of a cathedral now, hunched over the skyline like a malignant god.
He would need to move soon.
Sooner than he'd planned.
The storm was coming.
And he was still too weak.