Kael's eyes were still fixed on the dissipating cloud of dust, but the impact sound—the weight hitting the ground—echoed in his mind. A person... couldn't have jumped from that height. The rooftop had to be at least five meters high. A landing like that should have shattered a kneecap, broken a back, at the very least caused a stumble.
But this man had landed as softly as if stepping off a curb. As if the earth itself had bent for him, accepting his weight. As the dust cleared, a single thought looped in Kael's mind:
"Is this man... even human?"
His rational side was still grasping for explanations. Maybe he's trained. Special forces. An acrobat. A crazy parkour guy. Maybe... maybe I'm still dreaming, whispered the weaker, more desperate part of his mind.
But then the man turned and looked at him. And in that instant, Kael felt the truth in his very bones:
This wasn't human.
That gaze... it was a hunter's gaze. Meaningful and yet completely devoid of emotion. As if it passed through Kael, touched his thoughts, measured his weaknesses.
Kael's throat dried. Adrenaline resumed its course through his veins. His instincts screamed, Run! But his feet were nailed to the ground. He was now face-to-face with a twisted reality. System windows, red script, a voice-mimicking ability—and now this... what?
The man began to walk. His steps were measured. Deliberate. The pavement bore his weight without a sound—a silence that fell on Kael like a blade. With each step, reality bent a little more.
And... the man didn't even question Kael's bird mimicry. As if it wasn't extraordinary. As if it were a breeze blowing by. He hadn't reacted. He seemed to expect it. That quiet acceptance gnawed at Kael.
"Wouldn't a normal person ask?
'How did you make that sound?'
'Are you also...?'
But no. This man asked none of it."
Kael's voice trembled:
"What do you want?"
He stepped back. His feet searched for the cold lines of the pavement as his eyes scanned the man's face. He'd never seen him before. So unfamiliar that not even the possibility of a distant acquaintance sparked in Kael's mind. That gnawing discomfort—an indescribable, primal fear—grew with every step.
The man kept walking. His gait wasn't normal; it was calculated, soundless, and carried an ancient patience. His black shoes, dulled by dust, touched the ground without a whisper. Kael's eyes drifted to his clothes: a dark maroon coat that looked ripped from the 19th century, buttons adorned with black stones, a thin scarf tied around his neck. Against the backdrop of the modern city, he stood out like a relic.
Then the man spoke. His voice was oddly neutral; not threatening, but tinged with an authoritative tone:
"I only want you to come with me. That's all."
Kael's eyes widened. What? For a moment, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. It sounded like a joke, but the man's face didn't. His eyes were ice. Kael said nothing, only stared. One thought clanged in his head: "Is this a kidnapping? Is he just openly saying it?"
As bizarre as the man's appearance, those words unsettled Kael. His instincts screamed: Run! But his legs stayed put. He couldn't move. The man's muscles were visible even under his clothing. If he ran, he'd be caught. If he fought, he'd be crushed. But Kael wasn't someone to surrender easily. If he had to die without understanding anything, he'd rather go down resisting.
He swallowed hard. Clenched his fists. Took a deep breath. Maybe it was a bluff. Maybe he was only threatening him. Kael's mind was too scrambled to tell truth from illusion.
When the man saw Kael's clenched fists, he tilted his head slightly and smiled. It was a familiar smile, as if a well-rehearsed scene had begun again... an expectant smile.
"So you choose the hard way, huh..."
He stepped closer.
"I should have guessed."
Kael's fear surged to nausea. His heart pounded wildly. He'd never been in a real fight. Petty arguments, maybe a couple scuffles in school... but this? This was different.
Before he could even breathe, a force hit his chest. He didn't understand what happened—suddenly he was airborne—or thrown. His back slammed into the wall with a resonant thud. The sound of flesh meeting concrete. Air rushed from his lungs. He collapsed to the ground. A moment of silence. Then waves of pain radiated through his body.
Kael groaned. Holding his shoulder, he tried to make sense of it. But nothing was clear. It was as if an invisible hand had torn him from his spot and pinned him to the wall. No contact. No warning. But the hit was real.
He looked up. Eyes searched for the man. He hadn't moved. Hadn't approached. But the attack... it came from him. Kael was sure.
His vision dimmed for a moment. He gasped, even breathing hurt. This man was no longer just a threat. He was a full-blown enemy. And the gap between them was so vast Kael couldn't even comprehend it.
What was this man?
Kael was still on the ground. He'd fallen on his left side, pain searing through his ribs with every breath. His head spun, but the ambient sounds were becoming clearer. Something was happening. Footsteps... many of them.
"What now\... someone else?"
Something landed from the rooftops. One after another, heavy landing sounds echoed. The weight of bodies hitting pavement. Kael, half-conscious, tried to lift his head, but it dropped again—his body wouldn't obey.
The air was still hazy, but shadows multiplied. Black silhouettes descended one by one from the rooftops... Five, maybe six. Kael couldn't see clearly, but they wore armor—or outfits resembling medieval soldiers. Capes on their shoulders. No weapons in sight, but their posture was menacing. Their formation wasn't random. It was planned. Disciplined. Dangerous.
And in the center stood... that first man. The one who had slammed Kael into the wall without moving a muscle. The enigmatic stranger.
But now\... he wasn't moving either. He had turned his back, disappearing from Kael's line of sight. He bowed slightly. Strangely respectful. His demeanor had changed. No longer a wild attacker, but a soldier. His superior had arrived.
Kael squinted. Who was it? He couldn't see. The man's large frame blocked his view. But then a voice rang out.
"You've cast an illusion spell over the area, haven't you?"
The words came from a place even the streetlights couldn't illuminate. The tone... disturbingly confident. Clear, firm, and unmistakably feminine. Youthful yet ageless. She spoke in declarations, not questions. Issuing orders.
Kael's heart stopped for a moment.
"Magic? Illusion... is this real?"
He was just trying to comprehend. Everything so far had already stretched the limits of his sanity, and now magic?
The voice sounded familiar. He didn't know why, but Kael's mind reacted instinctively: "I've heard this voice before." Something in his heart twitched.
The woman spoke again. This time, more directly:
"Did you knock the target out properly, Luther?"
Kael's eyes snapped open.
"Luther... so that's his name?"
In his dazed state, through the haze of pain, he etched that name into his mind. The man with the parted hair, average features but a chilling presence. Now he had a name. And Kael would never forget it. If... he survived the night.
Luther responded. Calm, but with a hint of unease:
"He was fading in and out right after the strike. He should be out by now. But... there's something odd. Why didn't he use any abilities? He offered no resistance. It's... illogical."
Kael's mind caught on that word.
Abilities? What abilities?
What were they expecting from me?
I'm... just an ordinary guy.
But now, he had to act. He squeezed his eyes shut. Controlled his breathing. He had to pretend to be unconscious. Memorize every word he heard.
Then the woman's voice rang out again. Softly amused, laced with mocking curiosity:
"Are you sure he's unconscious?"
Luther paused. Then bowed his head. His gaze shifted toward Kael. Kael felt the eyes on him. He kept his eyes shut, every fiber of his body on alert.
Luther murmured:
"Ma'am... I..."
The woman cut him off. Her voice was clearer now. As if she were whispering into Kael's ear:
"Do you... *really* think he looks unconscious?"
Kael's heart pounded. He tried not to breathe. He could feel her gaze piercing through him. Even if he wanted to open his eyes... he was too afraid.
This wasn't just a woman's voice.
This was authority itself.