The lamps above Ren buzzed weakly, their light thinning as if the darkness itself was swallowing it. The street that stretched before him felt different now—heavier, charged, humming with a current he could sense through the parasite's instincts.
The whispers inside his chest had quieted, but they were not gone.
They were waiting.
Ren pushed himself up, steadying his breath. Every muscle trembled, the aftershock of battle lingering like a cold shadow on his skin. His compound eyes flickered turquoise before fading back to his normal gaze.
That was when he felt it—
A subtle distortion in the air behind him.
Not movement.
Not footsteps.
A displacement, like someone stepping between cracks in reality.
Ren spun, raising his guard.
A figure stood at the far end of the alley, halfway hidden by the fog.
Tall. Cloaked. Lean build.
A mask covered the lower half of their face, dark cloth threaded with metallic veins that pulsed faintly with violet light. The figure's eyes were not glowing like the children's; instead, they were dull and tired, as if holding back exhaustion—or hunger.
"Relax," the figure said in a low, steady voice. "If I wanted you dead, you would never have heard me arrive."
Ren didn't lower his stance.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure stepped into the dim light. A faint electric ripple shimmered across their body, distorting the shadows around them like warped air.
"I'm someone who's very tired of collecting bodies," the figure replied. "Especially ones that awaken incorrectly."
Ren stiffened.
"Awaken… incorrectly?"
The parasite inside him stirred, whispering agitation.
Do not trust. Do not trust this one.
The figure's eyes narrowed.
"You felt that, didn't you? The parasite. It's talking to you already. Whispering. Trying to guide you."
They tilted their head.
"That means you're not stabilized yet."
Ren's chest burned.
"What do you know about it?"
A small metal device rose from the stranger's hand—floating, hovering above their palm as if being pulled by invisible strings. Soft arcs of violet electricity danced across its surface.
"I know," the figure said, "that what's inside you is not a parasite. Not… exactly."
They stepped closer.
"It's an Auxiliary. A Volt-born consciousness. Three in one. Rare. Dangerous. Very, very unstable."
Ren swallowed hard.
"You're with the Three-Eyed Sparrow?"
The figure let out a short, humorless laugh.
"No. If I was with them, you'd be on the ground right now—drained dry."
They paused.
"I'm what they call a Siphoner."
The air tightened.
Ren had never heard the word before, but his instincts recoiled as if recognizing something ancient.
"What does a Siphoner do?"
The figure lifted a hand. The air shimmered again, and Ren felt a gentle tug at his chest—like someone trying to pull a thread from deep inside his heart.
The parasite flared aggressively, pushing back.
The Siphoner lowered their hand.
"It means I can drain Volt energy," the figure said calmly. "Yours. Theirs. Anyone's."
Ren stepped back, cold sweat gathering on his neck.
"What do you want from me?"
The Siphoner sighed, gaze softening slightly—only slightly.
"I want you to survive long enough to understand what you've become."
They looked around the alley.
"And this city… this dead place… will eat you alive if you stay in the open."
The parasite whispered again in Ren's chest—this time conflicted, divided between suspicion and curiosity.
The Siphoner pointed deeper into the dark street, where the fog grew thicker, swirling with faint sparks of blue light.
"Follow me, Ren. You're not ready, but you're out of time.
The masked man who marked you… he'll be back.
And he won't be alone."
Ren hesitated.
His heart pounded.
His instincts screamed in every direction.
But the parasite…
The hybrid consciousness…
For the first time, it whispered a single, unified message:
Move.
Ren clenched his fists, stepped forward once, and said:
"Show me."
The Siphoner turned, the fog parting as if obeying them.
And Ren followed into the shifting mist—
toward a truth darker than the streets behind him.