Ethan didn't remember walking back.
One moment he had been standing in that alley, the cold still clinging to his skin, the man barely alive behind him, and the next he was sitting on the edge of his bed again.
His room was quiet.
Too quiet.
He stared at his hand.
It was steady.
But it didn't feel like his anymore.
"You're adapting."
The voice came without warning.
Ethan didn't flinch this time.
"…Aval."
Silence followed, as if the name itself had weight.
Then—
"Yes."
Ethan leaned back slowly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "You're going to explain what the hell is happening."
A pause.
Longer than usual.
Then—
"You accepted."
"I didn't agree to whatever that was," Ethan snapped. "That thing in the alley—what was it?"
"Not yours."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "Then why was I there?"
"Because it called."
That word again.
Called.
Ethan exhaled sharply. "And that means what, exactly?"
"It means it was dying."
Silence filled the room.
"And you sent me to… what? Save it?" Ethan asked.
"No."
A beat.
"To answer."
Ethan sat up.
"That's not an answer."
Another pause.
"You will learn."
Ethan let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, that's reassuring."
His gaze dropped to his arm.
The mark.
Still there.
Still watching.
"…What did I do to that thing?" he asked quietly.
This time, Aval didn't answer immediately.
"You touched it."
Ethan frowned. "That's it?"
"You carry authority."
The words settled uneasily in his mind.
Authority.
Over what?
"And every time I use it?" Ethan asked.
Silence.
Then—
"You change."
That made his chest tighten.
"…Define change."
No answer.
Of course.
Ethan stood up, pacing slowly across the room. His movements felt sharper than before, faster, like his body was responding before he even thought. It wasn't just recovery.
It was improvement.
That should have felt good.
It didn't.
His phone buzzed again.
Ethan froze.
Same thing.
Unknown number.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
He picked it up anyway.
Static.
Breathing.
Then—
Laughter.
Not weak.
Not dying.
Excited.
"I found it."
Ethan's expression hardened. "Who is this?"
"You're late."
The voice was young.
Too young.
"Come fast."
The call ended.
Ethan stared at the screen.
Then at his arm.
The mark didn't burn this time.
But it pulsed.
Once.
Like a heartbeat.
"…Damn it."
He was already moving.
The city felt different again.
Faster.
Sharper.
Ethan ran.
Not jogged.
Not rushed.
Ran.
His body cut through the streets effortlessly, each step precise, controlled. He barely felt the ground beneath him. Wind rushed past his face as buildings blurred.
"…What the hell…"
He was faster.
Much faster.
Too fast.
He reached the location in minutes.
A rooftop.
Ethan slowed as he climbed up, his senses already on edge.
The moment he stepped onto the roof—
He saw him.
A kid.
Maybe sixteen.
Standing at the edge.
Smiling.
"…You came," the boy said.
Ethan didn't move closer.
"Step back from the edge."
The boy laughed.
"You don't get it."
Something felt wrong.
Not like the alley.
Different.
More… alive.
"You hear them too, right?" the boy asked, tilting his head slightly.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Hear what?"
"The calls."
Silence.
"They're everywhere," the boy continued, his voice almost cheerful. "Crying. Begging. Screaming."
Ethan took a slow step forward.
"That doesn't mean you jump."
The boy grinned wider.
"I already did."
Ethan froze.
"…What?"
The boy pointed down.
Ethan stepped closer—
And looked.
A body.
Broken.
On the ground below.
Same face.
Same clothes.
Same—
Ethan stepped back instantly.
"That's not possible."
The boy laughed again.
"Dead men call."
The words echoed.
Same as before.
But this time—
Ethan understood.
"You answered fast," the boy said. "Most don't."
"…What are you?" Ethan asked quietly.
The boy tilted his head.
"Alive."
A pause.
"For now."
The air shifted.
Ethan felt it.
Something watching.
Something waiting.
"You're not the only one who answers calls," the boy said softly.
Ethan's grip tightened.
"What happens if I don't?" he asked.
The boy's smile faded slightly.
"They take it."
"Take what?"
"Time."
Ethan's chest tightened.
"You used it," the boy continued. "Back there. In the alley."
The mark pulsed again.
"You felt it, didn't you?" the boy said.
Ethan didn't answer.
"…Every time you act," the boy whispered, "you burn faster."
Silence.
"Living fast," the boy said with a soft laugh.
"Dying young."
The words hit.
Hard.
Ethan stepped forward again.
"Then why are you smiling?"
The boy looked at him.
And for the first time—
There was something else in his eyes.
Fear.
"Because I don't get a choice anymore."
The wind picked up.
The city lights flickered.
And something behind the boy—
Moved.
Ethan saw it.
Just for a second.
A shadow.
Clinging to him.
Feeding.
"…Get away from him," Ethan said, his voice low.
Too late.
The boy's body jerked violently.
His smile broke.
"Help—"
Then—
Gone.
He fell.
Not jumped.
Dropped.
Ethan moved instantly.
Too fast.
He reached the edge—
Looked down—
Nothing.
No body.
No impact.
Nothing.
Silence.
Ethan stood there, breathing hard.
Then slowly—
He looked at his arm.
The mark glowed faintly.
Stronger than before.
"…You're killing me," he whispered.
This time—
Aval answered.
"You are spending."
Ethan closed his eyes.
"How much do I have left?"
A pause.
Then—
"Enough."
That wasn't reassuring.
At all.
Ethan opened his eyes again, staring out at the city.
The lights.
The movement.
The people.
All of it felt different now.
Fragile.
Temporary.
Like everything was already halfway gone.
And him—
Faster than the rest.