Eric left the hospital on a cold, clear morning.
The sky was bright, but the wind carried that metallic edge typical of large cities after a long night. The hospital parking lot looked ordinary—ambulances coming and going, private cars, nurses rushing across the area.
But for Eric—
Everything felt different.
He had spent two days there.
Two days the doctors insisted were necessary for "observation."
In truth, Eric already knew his body had recovered much earlier.
The strain from using Hero Mode had been intense—
But not devastating like the first time.
Something inside him was changing.
His body was learning—
Adapting to the power.
The doctors, of course, had no idea.
To them, Eric was just a young man who had survived yet another absurd event.
Four dead men.
An armed invasion.
And a civilian at the center of it all.
He walked slowly toward his car.
The new vehicle still smelled like fresh leather.
When he got in, he stayed still for a few seconds—
Hands resting on the steering wheel.
Thinking.
His relationship with Elena wasn't the same anymore.
After their argument in the hospital, something had shifted.
Not hostility—
But distance.
Longer silences.
Avoided eye contact.
Eric started the engine.
As he left the parking lot, he remembered the idea of buying an island.
At first, it had seemed perfect.
Isolation.
Security.
Total control.
But the more he thought about it—
The more obvious the problem became.
He needed the mainland.
Deals.
Conversions.
Transportation.
Information.
An island could easily become a luxurious prison.
And the recent penthouse attack had made one thing clear:
The danger was escalating.
Fast.
He merged onto the main avenue and headed toward the warehouse.
There were still coins waiting to be converted.
A lot of them.
Some had been gathered by Elena over the past few days.
Even after their argument—
She kept working.
But the pawn shop wasn't functioning normally.
Eric knew that.
She was probably spending more time sorting coins—
Than serving customers.
That bothered him.
But it also showed how deeply she was still involved in this world.
He accelerated slightly.
Then—
He noticed something.
A black car.
Unremarkable.
Maintaining distance.
Another car behind it.
Eric frowned.
Police.
They weren't hiding it completely.
But they weren't getting too close either.
Observation.
He slipped a hand into his coat pocket.
Inside—
Three gold coins.
Small.
Heavy.
Enough to activate the system instantly if needed.
He exhaled.
"Hero Mode…" he muttered.
The name felt more ironic with each passing day.
If someone analyzed everything objectively—
They might call it something else entirely.
Villain Mode.
Bodies.
Deaths.
Violence.
Eric tightened his grip on the wheel.
Then a question surfaced:
With Emir's brother dead…
Was the danger over?
He didn't believe that for a second.
And right then—
Something changed.
The blue interface of the Midas System appeared before his eyes.
But this time—
There was something new.
A line he had never seen before.
Nearby users detected: 1
Eric froze.
His heart accelerated instantly.
"Users…?" he whispered.
Plural.
The system had just confirmed what he had always suspected.
He wasn't alone.
No location.
No direction.
Just confirmation.
1 nearby user.
Eric scanned everything around him while driving.
Cars.
Pedestrians.
Motorcycles.
Nothing.
Nothing unusual.
He slowed down and pulled over on a side street.
The two cars behind him slowed—
And stopped as well.
Eric checked the rearview mirror.
The drivers stayed inside.
Didn't approach.
Confirming it.
Police.
He stepped out of the car.
Cold wind hit his face.
Adrenaline surged.
Another user.
Somewhere.
Close.
Eric looked at the buildings around him.
Windows.
Balconies.
Empty streets.
Nothing.
He looked back at the system interface.
Nearby users detected: 1
Still there.
No details.
No distance.
No direction.
He took a deep breath.
The excitement felt almost childish.
For weeks—
He had suspected.
Now—
He knew.
He wasn't alone.
Then—
The line disappeared.
Just like that.
Gone.
Eric stood still for a few seconds.
Then—
He smiled.
"So… you're out there."
He was almost certain.
Someone was watching him.
Most likely—
The same person who had called that night.
The female voice.
The warning.
Eric raised his hand—
And waved into the empty street.
Inside one of the surveillance cars, two officers exchanged looks.
"…Did he just wave?" one asked.
"To who?"
"No idea."
Eric got back into the car.
The moment he sat down—
The interface appeared again.
But now—
Empty.
No alerts.
No users detected.
He let out a quiet laugh.
"I see…"
Whoever it was—
Had disappeared.
Or moved away.
Eric started the car again and continued toward the warehouse.
Minutes later, he arrived.
The place looked exactly as he had left it.
Silent.
Isolated.
He opened the metal door and stepped inside.
Bags of coins covered the floor.
Stacks.
Boxes.
Small metallic mountains reflecting the dim light.
Eric closed the door behind him.
He knew.
He needed to convert everything.
Fast.
Very fast.
Because if another Midas user was nearby—
It was only a matter of time before they met.
Outside—
The two surveillance cars stopped a few meters away.
One officer grabbed the radio.
"Control, this is Unit Three. The suspect has arrived at the warehouse."
"Copy. Maintain surveillance."
"There's something else."
"What is it?"
"…Before entering the warehouse, he waved at nothing."
Silence.
"Repeat."
"He raised his hand… and waved."
A pause.
"Was anyone else there?"
"Negative."
"…Understood. Maintain position."
Hours later—
The report reached Lopez.
The inspector sat in his office when the call came in.
"He waved?" Lopez asked.
"Yes, sir."
"To who?"
"We don't know."
Lopez ended the call slowly.
Then picked up another report on his desk.
International cases.
Recent incidents.
Violent deaths.
Mercenaries.
Criminals.
Armed men.
All dead in unexplained confrontations.
Different countries.
But the same pattern.
Impact injuries.
Abnormal combat speed.
Just like the warehouse.
Just like the penthouse.
Lopez ran a hand over his face.
Behind him, the investigation board was covered in red strings connecting names, places, and events.
At the center—
Eric.
Lopez stared at the board.
Then at the report.
And whispered:
"…This isn't just one man."