DEMON STAR WOLF
Ring ring.
"Hello, David."
"Hello, Sky. How is it going?" David said.
"It's good on my end. How about you?" SKYWHITE said.
"Good."
"David, I think I am beginning to understand this system-like thing."
"Oh? How so?"
"Listen, guess what. You've seen your awareness points, right?"
"Yeah, I have. What about it?" David said.
"Now let me tell you — I just hit one on my awareness point, and my sensitivity shot up by a large margin. Even I can't believe it."
"That's normal, right? Our sensitivity has been increasing since that day. So what's different?"
"You'll understand when you get there. Let me know when you reach it — you'll understand then."
"Okay, let's leave that aside. What do you think of Mmeso? She's cool, right?"
"Really? Now you're asking that with everything that's going on? I wish I could be as carefree as you."
"Hehe, don't dodge the question. She's cool, right?"
"Fine, yes. She's cool in a lot of ways — more than I am. So why are you asking?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to know. Hahaha. Alright, smell you later. Let me know when you reach point one, okay?"
---
Ada – Perspective
Ada stood outside David's door for a moment before knocking.
She had heard parts of the conversation. Not the words exactly — but the tone.
Skywhite again.
Ever since the blackout, everyone had been pretending to stay calm. Training quietly. Acting normal. Eating together. Sleeping on time.
But nothing was normal.
She looked down at her own palm.
Awareness: 0.8
It hadn't moved all day.
She hated that.
David was ahead. Skywhite was ahead.
And she could feel it — that invisible wall inside her mind. Like something was blocking her from crossing over.
Was she not pushing hard enough?
Or was she afraid?
She knocked lightly.
"David… you done with your call?"
From inside the room, she heard movement.
"I'm coming," he replied.
Ada took a slow breath.
If he really hit one…
Then things were about to change.
And she needed to catch up.
Not because she wanted power.
But because she had a feeling — a quiet, cold feeling — that when Phase One ends…
No one below one point zero would be safe.
---
Ada stepped back from the door before David could open it.
She didn't want him seeing the worry on her face.
She adjusted her expression quickly — neutral, composed.
The door opened.
David leaned against the frame casually.
"You were listening?" he asked.
"Not intentionally," she replied. "You talk loud."
He smirked faintly.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
The air between them felt different tonight.
Sharper.
"Did you hit one?" she asked directly.
David didn't answer immediately.
Then he nodded once.
"Yes."
Her chest tightened slightly.
"How does it feel?"
He stepped aside so she could enter the room.
"Come inside."
She walked in slowly, closing the door behind her.
He moved toward the center of the room.
"It doesn't feel powerful," he said. "It feels precise."
"Precise?"
"Like my brain processes information a fraction earlier than before."
He picked up a pen from the desk and tossed it lightly into the air.
The pen rotated once.
Twice.
Before it could drop, his fingers closed around it effortlessly.
Ada watched carefully.
"That's just reaction speed," she said.
"No," David replied. "It's prediction."
He tossed it again — this time without looking directly at it.
He caught it mid-spin.
Ada's eyes narrowed.
"You're reading trajectory."
"Yes."
Silence filled the room again.
She stepped closer.
"My Awareness hasn't moved," she admitted.
David studied her expression.
"What are you at?"
"Zero point eight."
"That's still good."
"It hasn't changed all day."
He could hear the frustration hidden under her calm tone.
David walked toward the window.
Outside, snow continued falling steadily under the streetlights.
"It's not about force," he said quietly. "I think it's about understanding."
"Understanding what?"
"The system."
Ada folded her arms.
"You think it rewards comprehension?"
"I think it responds to adaptation."
She stared at him.
"And what if we adapt too slowly?"
David didn't answer.
Because the thought had crossed his mind too.
The countdown hovered faintly in his perception.
26 Days, 9 Hours
It had dropped again.
Time was moving whether they were ready or not.
Ada suddenly turned toward the door.
"I'm training again."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"It's almost midnight."
"All the better."
David grabbed his jacket.
"I'm coming."
They stepped into the hallway quietly.
The house was asleep.
Their parents' room lights were off.
The world outside glowed faintly under the strange winter sky.
They moved toward the backyard training space.
Snow crunched softly under their feet — unnatural in both sound and presence.
Ada positioned herself at the center of the yard.
She closed her eyes.
Breathed slowly.
In.
Out.
She focused inward.
The invisible wall was still there.
But tonight… it felt thinner.
David watched from a short distance.
The air around Ada shifted subtly.
Not visibly.
But perceptibly.
The snowflakes drifting near her seemed to hesitate mid-fall.
Not stopping.
Just… slowing.
David's eyes widened slightly.
"Ada…"
She didn't respond.
Her breathing changed rhythm.
Deeper.
Steadier.
Then suddenly —
A faint pulse expanded outward from her position.
The snow around them scattered slightly as if pushed by a gentle wave of pressure.
Ada's eyes snapped open.
Her pupils sharpened.
Inside her awareness —
A soft chime.
Awareness: 0.9
She staggered back a step.
David caught her arm.
"You okay?"
She nodded slowly.
"Yes."
But her gaze shifted upward toward the sky.
Because for a split second — just before the notification appeared —
She had felt something else.
Not growth.
Not clarity.
Something watching.
High above the falling snow.
Waiting.
And whatever it was… it had become aware of her.