They weren't alone anymore.
Aren felt it before he saw them.
Not the threads.
The absence of them.
The alley had been alive minutes ago—pulsing, watching, reacting.
Now—
still.
Too still.
Tomas slowed behind him. "Why did it go quiet?"
Aren didn't answer.
His grip tightened on the kris.
"Because we're being watched."
The words barely left his mouth—
A sound cut through the silence.
A boot against broken glass.
Sharp.
Deliberate.
Three figures stepped into view.
Black cloth masks.
Crimson markings.
A coiled kris.
Tomas stiffened. "Them…"
Anak ng Digmaan.
The lead scout tilted his head slightly, studying Aren.
"You again," he said.
His voice carried recognition.
Not surprise.
Interest.
The wiry one from before stepped forward, rolling his shoulder where Tomas had struck him days ago.
A faint bruise remained.
He smiled.
"You hit harder than you look," he said, eyes on Tomas. "Good. Makes this worth it."
The third scout—broad, cautious—said nothing.
But his gaze never left Aren's hand.
The kris.
"You shouldn't be here," the leader said. "Not anymore."
Aren didn't move.
"We weren't planning to stay."
"Doesn't matter," the leader replied calmly. "You've already crossed the line."
The threads didn't react.
That was wrong.
"They're not moving," Tomas whispered.
Aren noticed.
The threads weren't guiding.
They weren't warning.
They were—
Avoiding.
The wiry scout stepped closer. "You feel that, don't you?" he said. "That silence."
Aren's eyes narrowed.
"What did you do?"
The scout grinned.
"Nothing," he said. "That's the point."
The leader raised a hand slightly.
"Enough."
The air tightened.
"You've been touching things you don't understand," he said, voice steady. "Threads. Relics. Resonance."
Tomas glanced at Aren. "…They know."
Aren didn't look away.
"So do you," Aren said.
The leader didn't deny it.
"We understand enough," he said. "More than you."
His gaze sharpened.
"Which is why you're dangerous."
The words settled heavily.
Not accusation.
Judgment.
The wiry scout cracked his neck. "So what's the call? We take the blade first or break him first?"
"Neither," the leader said.
He stepped forward.
"We observe," he continued. "We confirm."
His eyes locked onto Aren.
"Show me."
The threads around Aren pulsed faintly—
then stilled again.
"…Show you what?" Tomas asked.
The leader didn't look at him.
"Resonance."
Silence.
Tomas shook his head immediately. "No."
Aren didn't respond.
"Use it," the leader said. "Or we make you."
The wiry scout moved first.
Fast.
Too fast.
Aren stepped in—
Flow of Entry—
Steel met steel.
The clash rang sharp through the alley.
The scout's blade twisted unnaturally—
not skill—
guided.
Aren's eyes narrowed.
Threads.
But not like his.
Controlled.
Forced.
The second strike came low.
Aren deflected—
stepped—
countered—
The scout laughed. "There it is."
Behind him—
Tomas reacted.
A thrown pipe flew—
forced the broad scout to shift his stance.
Not clean.
But enough.
"Stay back!" Aren snapped.
"I'm not staying out of this!" Tomas shot back.
The leader watched.
Still.
Not fighting.
Studying.
The threads around him didn't move.
They obeyed.
Aren felt it then.
The difference.
"They're not following the threads," he muttered.
"They're controlling them."
The wiry scout grinned wider. "Took you long enough."
He lunged again—
This time—
the threads snapped forward with him.
Aren blocked—
but the force carried through—
He slid back—
boots scraping hard against concrete.
The kris pulsed.
Hard.
[RESONANCE AVAILABLE]
Tomas saw it. "Aren—don't!"
Aren hesitated.
A fraction too long.
The scout's blade came in—
Close—
Too close—
Tomas moved.
Not thinking.
He stepped in—
Took the hit.
The blade cut across his arm.
Shallow.
But real.
"Tomas!" Aren snapped.
The world tightened.
The threads surged.
Not outward.
Inward.
Aren's grip locked.
"I said stay back," he said.
His voice—
Was colder.
The kris flared.
[RESONANCE ACTIVATED]
Pain followed.
Immediate.
Sharper than before.
The threads bent.
Not wild.
Not unstable.
Focused.
The scout's movement slowed—
not physically—
Perceptually.
Aren stepped forward.
Inside.
Strike—
redirect—
control—
The blade stopped at the scout's throat.
Stillness.
The threads tightened around both of them—
Then stopped.
The wiry scout exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "That's it."
Behind him—
the leader nodded once.
"Confirmed."
The threads released.
Aren stepped back.
The pain lingered.
But something else—
Shifted.
[RESONANCE COMPLETE]
[COST: MEMORY FRAGMENT LOST]
Aren's breath caught.
Again.
"…No," he muttered.
The leader noticed.
"Still losing them?" he asked.
Aren looked up sharply.
"You don't even know what you're losing yet, do you?"
Tomas grabbed his arm. "Aren. Stop."
Aren didn't move.
The leader continued:
"That's the difference between us."
He gestured slightly.
"We learned control first."
His gaze hardened.
"You're learning cost first."
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Then—
"Let's go," the leader said.
The wiry scout blinked. "That's it?"
"For now."
The leader turned.
"But next time," he added without looking back, "we won't be observing."
The three of them disappeared into the ruins.
Just like that.
The threads returned.
Slowly.
Cautiously.
Tomas exhaled hard. "What the hell was that?!"
Aren didn't answer.
He was staring at his hands.
They were steady.
Too steady.
"…Aren?"
Aren blinked.
"…Did you get hurt?" he asked.
Tomas froze.
"…You just saw it," Tomas said quietly.
Aren frowned.
For a moment—
Nothing came.
Then—
"…Right," Aren said.
Too late.
Too uncertain.
Tomas's grip tightened.
"You're forgetting faster."
Aren didn't deny it.
He couldn't.
The threads pulsed faintly around them.
Watching.
Waiting.
And somewhere deeper—
Something had noticed the difference.
Not just in power.
But in cost.
[THREAD ESCALATION CONFIRMED]
This wasn't just survival.
This was a race.
And Aren was already losing something he couldn't get back.