The feeling didn't leave.
Even after they were gone.
Even after the city returned to its broken stillness.
It stayed.
Not inside Aren.
Around him.
Like something had drawn a boundary—
and decided to watch what happened inside it.
Aren stood at the edge of the rooftop, unmoving.
The threads were quiet again.
But not the same kind of quiet.
This—
was attention.
"…You feel that too, right?" Tomas asked.
Aren didn't look back.
"Yeah."
A pause.
"…It's not like before."
"No."
Before, the threads guided.
Now—
they hesitated.
Like they were waiting for something else to decide.
Aren flexed his hand slightly.
The kris responded immediately.
A pulse of heat ran through the blade—
stronger than before.
Not reacting to danger.
Reacting to—
him.
"…That's new," Tomas muttered.
Aren glanced at him.
"You noticing things faster now?"
Tomas shrugged slightly.
"…I think I just stopped waiting."
That answer lingered.
Then—
Something moved below.
Aren's gaze snapped downward.
Street level.
A shadow shifted between collapsed vehicles.
Not large.
Not fast.
But wrong.
The threads reacted.
Not guiding.
Pulling away.
"…That's not normal," Tomas said.
"No," Aren replied.
"It's not."
The shadow dragged itself into view.
A body.
Twisted.
Half-formed.
Its limbs bent at angles that didn't hold weight—
yet it stood.
Barely.
Its head turned—
too slow.
Too deliberate.
And then—
It looked at Aren.
Not Tomas.
Only him.
"…That's also not normal," Tomas said.
Aren stepped forward.
The kris shifted in his grip.
"…Stay back."
Tomas didn't argue.
But he didn't step far.
The creature moved.
Not fast.
Not aggressive.
Drawn.
Toward Aren.
The threads around it trembled—
not guiding it.
Avoiding it.
"…It's not following anything," Tomas said.
"It's following me."
The creature twitched—
then lunged.
Fast.
Too fast for its shape.
Aren moved.
Step.
Angle.
The kris cut clean through its arm.
No resistance.
The limb separated—
but didn't fall.
It dissolved.
Threads.
Loose.
Unstable.
The creature didn't stop.
It kept coming.
Aren shifted again—
Strike.
The blade passed through its torso—
and this time—
something reacted.
The threads around it snapped.
Violently.
The creature convulsed—
not in pain.
In correction.
"Something's trying to fix it!" Tomas shouted.
"No," Aren said.
Watching closely.
"It's failing."
The threads tried to pull it together—
but they couldn't hold.
The creature twisted—
split—
reformed—
wrong each time.
And still—
it moved toward him.
"…Why only you?" Tomas asked.
Aren didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
The mark.
This wasn't random.
This was—
response.
The creature lunged again.
Aren stepped forward this time.
Inside its reach.
The kris burned.
Not hot—
Focused.
He struck—
not the body—
the threads.
The blade cut through something unseen—
and everything stopped.
The creature froze.
Mid-motion.
Then—
collapsed.
Not falling.
Unraveling.
Into nothing.
Silence returned.
But it didn't feel like relief.
It felt like—
confirmation.
Tomas exhaled slowly.
"…That thing didn't even look at me."
Aren lowered the kris.
"It wasn't supposed to."
A pause.
"…Because of them?" Tomas asked.
Aren didn't answer.
Because the answer wasn't complete yet.
The threads shifted.
Slowly.
Cautiously.
Not toward him—
around him.
Like they were mapping something.
Tracking.
"…Aren."
He looked up.
Tomas was staring at him—
not scared.
Not confused.
Focused.
"…You're not just outside the system anymore," he said.
A pause.
"…You're inside something else."
That—
landed.
Aren didn't respond.
Because for the first time—
he wasn't sure.
Then—
The threads pulsed.
Different.
Not reacting to the creature.
Not reacting to Tomas.
Reacting to—
the mark.
A faint shift in the air.
Subtle.
Precise.
Aren felt it.
That boundary again.
Tightening.
Not restricting.
Defining.
"…They didn't just mark you," Tomas said quietly.
"They changed how things see you."
Aren's grip tightened slightly.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…I noticed."
The city remained still.
But beneath it—
something was adjusting.
Learning.
Adapting.
And this time—
it wasn't trying to correct him.
It was trying to understand him.
The threads flickered once more—
uncertain.
Because for the first time—
they weren't the ones in control of what happened next.