His energy felt different.
Denser. Sharper. Alive.
Ever since Spatial Shift had pushed to level two, Sol could feel a clear change—not just in how far he could move, but in what flowed through his veins. His internal light no longer just sat there, it thrummed, hungry, dragging in sunlight faster, stretching the limits of what his body could hold.
He tested it.
Counted it.
With his reserves full, he could now fire Light Particle about twenty-seven… maybe twenty-eight times before bottoming out.
"Still not a lot," he thought, "but enough to go all-out for a minute or two."
The pattern was obvious now.
Every step up—new ability or level increase—boosted his inner capacity. Just like when he'd unlocked Spatial Shift and Celestial Finger. The template wasn't just handing him tricks, it was rebuilding his battery.
That made him even more impatient for what was coming next.
Especially once Light Particle hit level two.
He scanned the small bedroom again.
No good place to practice blowing holes through reality.
He sighed, pushed himself up, and headed for the door.
On the way downstairs, his gaze dropped to his left hand—wrapped neat in white bandages. Micheal's work. Proof the man hadn't just dragged him inside and left him to rot.
In his mind, Sol quietly pinned a "good guy" label on him.
On the sofa, Micheal glanced away from the TV when Sol appeared, brows lifting.
"What're you doing down here, kid?" he asked. "It's not time to eat. Your wounds aren't healed yet, are they?"
Sol hesitated.
Then, remembering the bandages and the roof over his head, chose honesty. Or part of it.
"Nothing much," he said. "Just want to practice my abilities a bit while I've got the chance."
Micheal studied him for a second, then nodded, suspicion absent.
"Come on," he said, standing. "I'll take you to the basement."
Sol blinked.
He hadn't expected that.
Seeing the look, Micheal gave a faint smile.
"What, surprised?" he said. "I'm an ability user too. I need somewhere to train."
"No, I just…" Sol forced a polite smile. "I don't think a basement's enough."
He knew what Light Particle did. Even at level one, it didn't care about material. It made holes. Big ones. Turning Micheal's training space into Swiss cheese after everything he'd done for him sat wrong.
Micheal cocked his head.
"Not enough space?" he guessed. "Or worried about wrecking the place?"
"Honestly? Both," Sol admitted. "I need room to test range. And… it's not exactly gentle."
Micheal nodded thoughtfully.
"For the damage, don't worry," he said. "I won't be staying in this house much longer anyway. As for space—take a look first. If it's still too cramped, I'll bring you out back."
They went down together.
The basement wasn't some damp storage cave. It was wide and open, concrete floor scuffed by years of training. Free weights lined one wall. A punching bag hung from the ceiling. Several dummy targets stood nailed into place, riddled with old impact marks.
"Use what you need," Micheal said.
Sol gave the space a quick once-over and nodded.
"Good enough."
Seeing that, Micheal took it as his cue to leave and casually headed back upstairs.
The door shut.
Silence settled.
Sol hesitated only a heartbeat, then extended his right hand and pointed down at the far end of the room.
[Light Particle Experience +1]
A tiny bright sphere formed at his fingertip and shot forward, slicing through the air so fast it was almost invisible.
He tracked it carefully, watching where it fizzled out.
"About five meters," he calculated. "Still too short."
He pictured enforcers in full armor, rifles raised, holding a safe distance while they turned him into a target. Snipers on the high ground. Men who never let him get within five meters of anything.
Not acceptable.
He fired again.
[Light Particle Experience +1]
[Light Particle Experience +1]
…
Bolts of darkness hammered into the concrete in quick succession, tearing out chunks and deepening the growing crater. Each impact devoured stone in a swallow of nothingness, leaving a small, precise hole.
The experience bar climbed.
As his internal energy emptied, his limbs began to drag. He stopped before hitting true zero.
Time to refill.
He didn't bother with the stairs.
One thought—and the world folded.
He reappeared in his upstairs room, even though he hadn't been looking at it. Trace lines of space lit up in his mind like a monochrome sonar map—white lanes of movement, black walls of no-go.
He'd noticed this after Spatial Shift hit level two. He didn't need to see a spot to know he could land there, he could feel it.
He grinned despite his fatigue and stepped into the sunlight streaming through the window.
Light poured in.
When his reserves felt full again, he shifted back to the basement and kept going.
[GoL Ability: Light Particle (81/100) Level 1]
[GoL Ability: Spatial Shift (3/500) Level 2]
Time blurred into a cycle of practice and recharge.
The basement had no windows. Down there, no sunlight touched him. Every minute training meant another minute upstairs pulling in light.
By the time the clock upstairs crept toward six in the evening, his arm ached from repetition and the floor in one corner of the basement looked like a meteor impact zone.
The panel ticked over.
Light Particle advanced.
He checked.
Level two.
He felt the shift immediately—power coiling heavier in his chest, ready to rip through the world.
He couldn't resist.
[Light Particle Experience +1]
A bright sphere, larger than an egg now, formed at his fingertip and roared toward the ground.
It didn't just punch a hole.
It tunneled.
The dark distortion drilled down, devouring everything in its path. When it dissipated, a deep, narrow shaft yawned back at him—fifteen meters at least, its bottom swallowed by shadow.
Sol stared, then exhaled slowly.
"Range and bite are both up," he thought. "Still not enough to flatten a building, but…"
In a fight, it would matter.
"The more I level up, the bigger the tank," he reminded himself. "More shots. More shifts. More everything."
His energy pool had grown again with the upgrade. The pattern held.
"Unlock progress is important," he thought, feeling the thrum inside him, "but with agents that close—and drones overhead—it's pretty clear a fight's coming first."
He glanced at the panel again.
The Light Particle experience bar now stretched to 500. So did Spatial Shift's.
No quick grinding them higher. Not in a day. Not with this much pressure.
He went to the small basement window, peered up through the grate.
Outside, enforcers in dark uniforms were now only a few houses away, with more posted at street corners. Some watched rooftops. Others lingered by vehicles. Drones buzzed methodically overhead, gridding the area.
He pulled back.
No time.
He forced his focus to the unlock progress instead.
(Unlock Progress: 18%)
"What's next?" he wondered. "And can I get it in time?"
He knew what he wanted.
If he'd had another day, he'd pour everything into Echo Shield. Upgrade the only defensive layer he had and fatten his reserves even more in the process. Being able to shrug off bullets and blasts would mean everything.
But he didn't have a day.
"At this rate, flight or mental powers would be perfect," he admitted to himself.
Flight to get above all of this. Or mental influence—slipping into their minds, making them look past him, treating him like empty air.
Invisible because he'd told their brains he was.
The things high-level psychics could do were terrifying. He wanted a piece of that.
But he was realistic enough to know governments had spent years building counters to ability users, especially mind tricks. Drugs. Devices. Protocols.
He couldn't gamble on a 'maybe'.
Outside, boots thudded on sidewalks, closer every minute.
With them so near, training more would be stupid. If he drained himself and they knocked on the door, he'd be finished.
So he stilled.
And since he wasn't spending any energy, the system quietly started filling his Energy Points again, stockpiling for whatever came next.
His gaze drifted down to the tortured corner of the basement.
Concrete caved in. Edges melted away. A hole any normal homeowner would call the cops over.
"How am I even going to explain this?" he muttered. "Giant earthworms?"
He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Forget it. I'll pretend I've never seen it."
He closed his eyes, then snapped out of the basement in a blink.
A heartbeat later, he stood in the upstairs bedroom.
"Hey!" he called, opening the door and leaning toward the stairs. "Got anything to eat?"
The words were barely out when his expression froze.
Right.
He was supposed to be in the basement.
He heard slow, heavy steps on the stairs.
Micheal appeared a second later, eyes narrowed.
"When'd you come up?" he asked.
"While you were in the bathroom," Sol said without missing a beat, forcing an easy shrug.
Micheal scratched his beard, something not quite clicking. For a second, he pictured the kid just… appearing. Floating up.
He snorted at his own thought.
Unless the boy could fly, there wasn't much else to say.
"Fine," he said. "Come down and eat."
Sol let out a breath he hoped didn't show, then smiled and followed him to the kitchen.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the clink of cutlery and the smell of simple home cooking grounding him more than he'd expected.
Afterward, Sol set his utensils down and looked up, serious.
"I think it's time for me to go," he said.
Micheal's face tightened.
"You sure about that, kid?" he asked. "There are a lot of people out there looking for you."
"That's why I have to go," Sol replied. "I don't want to drag you into this."
He wasn't being noble.
Just practical.
"If they find me here," he went on, "best case you get hit with harboring a criminal. Worst case… they figure out you're an ability user. Maybe connect you to the Insurgency. Then it's not just me they're dragging away."
He met Micheal's gaze.
"I've been freeloading long enough. We're not family. You don't owe me anything. Thanks for what you've done."
Micheal frowned.
"Your wound—"
"I can move well enough to run," Sol cut in gently. "That's all I need."
He stood and headed toward a side door he'd already scoped out as a good exit.
Behind him, Micheal watched, torn.
Part of him wanted to call the Insurgency, and arrange a pickup. A kid with this kind of potential—could be worth the trouble.
Another part knew how fast the noose was tightening outside.
In the end, he let the boy walk.
When the door closed, he blew out a breath and, after a moment's thought, went to check the basement.
If nothing else, he needed to see how much of a mess he'd be cleaning up.
One step down.
Two.
He reached the bottom, turned, and stopped dead.
"What the—"
A massive hole yawned in one corner of the floor, deep and clean-edged, like something had bitten a chunk out of the earth.
His mind, unbidden, threw up an image of Sol standing there, finger raised, darkness lancing down.
"What did that kid do?" Micheal whispered.
How?
---
Outside, Sol kept low and moved fast, slipping between shadows and hedges. He didn't see any agents on the immediate street, but he could feel their net tightening.
If he'd lingered another ten, fifteen minutes, both he and Micheal could have been in cuffs—or worse.
He ran, breath coming hard, and stretched his awareness outward.
Spatial Shift unfolded around him like a wireframe grid. Ten meters in every direction painted themselves in his mind's eye, showing walls, open spaces, solid obstacles.
Every blink could take him into a different pocket of safety.
For now.
This was a city. Buildings stacked close. Rooms side by side. If he timed it right, he could teleport into random apartments, stairwells, corridors—lose line of sight again and again.
But without direct sunlight his reserves were finite.
Eventually, he'd run dry.
He was still turning escape paths over in his mind when a mechanical whine drifted down from above.
He looked up.
An unmanned drone hovered overhead, lenses glinting as it angled to get a better look at him.
"Attention, suspected ability user located!" a metallic voice crackled from a distant speaker. "Team, move to intercept!"
The drone dipped lower to confirm.
Sol didn't hesitate.
[Light Particle Experience +1]
A Light bolt lanced upward.
Boom.
The drone erupted midair and crashed in a spray of metal and plastic. Sol spun and sprinted into the nearest alley, vanishing into shadow.
Elsewhere, boots hit the asphalt.
An armed squad of ten cut through side streets, armor and gear rattling softly. At their head strode Captain Hugo, a thick-necked, stone-faced man with hard eyes.
Somewhere further back, a sniper team repositioned, seeking a clear line of fire.
"Remember," Hugo said as they moved, voice clipped, "target can absorb sunlight. Has Light Energy orbs with short max yield. Keep distance. Don't cluster."
Behind them, Micheal stepped out of his front door, saw the enforcers rushing past, then glanced in the direction Sol had gone.
He sighed.
Then he went back inside, pried up a loose floorboard, and pulled out a hidden phone.
He dialed.
---
From a vantage a few streets away, Sol watched agents and drones comb the blocks.
Running forever, in his condition, wouldn't work.
He ducked into an alley—and vanished.
Spatial Shift snapped him sideways.
By the time the leading edge of the search team turned in after him, the alley was empty. Just a dumpster, a few closed doors, and trash stirring in the breeze.
Above them, drones circled like vultures.
Inside one of the adjacent buildings, Sol materialized in a narrow hallway that smelled faintly of oil and cooked food.
He blinked at the cheap wallpaper, then moved quickly to the nearest door, eased the lock, and stepped out.
Behind him, in the tiny living room he'd just invaded, a man halfway through a mouthful of noodles froze, chopsticks in hand, staring at the kid who'd just walked out of his apartment.
"Where the hell… did he come from?" the man whispered.
Sol didn't look back.
He bolted down the hallway, flew up the stairs two at a time, and burst through the door onto the roof.
Concrete under his feet. Lines of clothes fluttering on wires. Old furniture. Broken junk stacked against a water tank.
He slipped behind a shattered bed frame and crouched, eyes up.
Drones drifted over the neighborhood, their cameras sweeping side to side. A couple hovered too close for comfort.
He picked a target.
Another building's roof, just far enough away to break line of sight. He waited, timing the drones' arcs. When their cameras shifted away from his roof for a second—
He ran.
He sprinted for the edge and jumped.
For a split second, his stomach dropped.
The gap yawned under him.
He almost missed the mental trigger.
Then Spatial Shift snapped, and he vanished mid-fall, heart lurching.
He reappeared on the next rooftop, knees nearly buckling. He dove for cover behind a pile of bricks.
"Damn," he panted. "That was close."
His face had gone pale. The thought of splattering across some alley floor because he flubbed a teleport midair turned his hands clammy.
He forced a deep breath in. Then another. The tremor in his fingers eased.
"I'll kill them all," he whispered.
The sun was up now. Each time he used Spatial Shift, the energy it burned was almost instantly refilled by the light beating down on him. He could hop from roof to roof, always staying just ahead of the drones, moving out of their search pattern.
He wasn't trying to flee the city.
Not really.
He knew what came next if he just ran.
A warrant. Bounty posters. Mercenaries, hunters, government teams trailing him from shadow to shadow. Never sleeping properly. Never trusting anyone. Waiting for the day someone got lucky.
"I'm not living like that," he decided.
He vaulted to another rooftop, shifted mid-leap, and rolled to his feet behind a chimney. The city stretched out below—a maze of streets and uniforms closing in.
"I need to make an example," he thought, eyes cold.
An example they couldn't ignore.
"If they're so eager to die," Sol muttered, fingers curling as power coiled around his bones, "I'll oblige."
He turned toward the direction the enforcers were coming from, every sense sharpening.
Preparing for the showdown he knew was coming.