Noise.
That was the first thing Kael noticed.
Not the wind. Not the birds. Not the hum of street traffic. Just a sharp mechanical buzzing, like some machine flickering on deep inside his head.
He winced, pressing a hand to his temple.
"Not again," he muttered, his voice low and rough from exhaustion.
The noise never stopped. It wasn't outside. It lived inside him, a constant background hum like an overloaded system running behind his thoughts.
His eyes stung. Tears welled up for no clear reason, slipping down his cheeks before he could stop them.
"Get out of my head," he whispered, his voice barely steady.
Nothing answered.
Kael sat up slowly, every muscle of his aching from another night on cold concrete. The rusted steel beams around him dug into his jacket. Even breathing felt heavy.
He looked down at the mask in his lap. The soft gray filter lined with cheap nanofiber. It blocked the worst of the city's poison, but more than that, more importantly even, it hid his face.
He hadn't put it on yet. The morning air was cold but clean enough for once, biting gently at his skin.
Across, a dark window caught his reflection.
He looked pale and hollow-eyed. His hair tangled and wild over his forehead.
"I look like crap," he muttered. "Like trash no one bothered to throw out."
He pulled the mask over his face, tightening the strap behind his ears. It was almost second nature now.
Kael. The Monster.
God, even thinking the name made his stomach turn.
Then—
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
[Daily Quest #1: Incapacitate the Egoist]
[Reward: +5 MP, +3 Strength, +2 Endurance, +1 Willpower]
Kael froze.
The message popped into his vision like a whisper demanding attention.
"What the hell now?" he whispered, annoyed and worn out.
No voice. Just words.
"Egoist? MP? What does that even mean anymore?"
No answer.
He knew what MP meant. Secretly, he wished he hadn't. MP meant Mortus Points. In other words, the System's idea of currency.
Not gold. Not credits. Not even time.
Death.That's what it dealt in.
Every point was proof that he'd walked the line again. Proof he'd taken something, ended something, guided something into silence.
+5 MP didn't mean power. It meant he'd get a little stronger, sure, but at a cost.
There was always a cost.
Sometimes it was a soul laid to rest.
Sometimes it was a scream that never stopped echoing.
Kael exhaled sharply through his nose.
Mortus Points. Strength. Endurance. Willpower.
The System dressed it all up like a gift.
But it never gave anything for free.
The message blinked out, leaving the buzzing louder as if mocking him.
He rubbed his temples, shaking his head.
This wasn't new. It never was. It wasn't the first time and it definitely wouldn't be the last, either. But every time it did happen, it felt like a fresh kind of torture.
He stood up, stretching out the stiffness in his legs.
Outside, the city was waking up, completely indifferent to the chaos inside his head.
Store signs were blinking one by one. Buses coughed to life. Street Lights flickered against the morning haze. Somewhere nearby, a vendor was dragging open a rusted shutter. The clatter echoed down the alley.
Kael kept his hood low. Eyes down. His mask snug over his mouth and nose.
People gave him space. Not in a kind way. More like they were instinctively uncomfortable. Like they could sense he didn't belong.
He caught a glimpse of himself in a smudged window across the street. He stood pale skinned, hollow-eyed, his hair clinging to his forehead like someone who'd just stepped out of a storm.
"Maybe they're right," he muttered. "Maybe I'm not supposed to be here."
A burst of laughter broke the silence.
Down the street, a group of teens zipped past on rollerblades. Not the kind familiar in today's world. These were modded, sleek metal frames with little boosters on the sides. The kind of tech you could only get secondhand from a guy who knew a guy. When they kicked off, the wheels lifted just enough to hover over the pavement, leaving short trails of light in their wake.
One of them, a broad-shouldered guy in a red hoodie, cruised by with confident strides. When he kicked off, his heavy frame didn't slow him down; he launched into a powerful spin mid-air, twisting with surprising agility before landing solidly. People around him clapped, a few even whistled.
He glanced back at a girl with messy orange hair and a long coat, trying to impress her. But she walked with easy purpose, flipping through the pages of a book she never looked up from. She didn't smile but she didn't look away either.
Kael watched her longer than he meant to.
Then—
Thump.
A red ball rolled toward his feet, wobbling slightly before stopping near his boot.
"Yo!" someone called out. "Mind tossing that back?"
Kael looked up. A boy was skating toward him. He had short, scruffy hair, grinning like he didn't have a care in the world. He pointed at the ball.
Kael picked it up. "Might be radioactive," he muttered.
The kid laughed. "Only a little. Go on then, throw it."
Kael lobbed it back, only to a second later, wince, jolted by the impact before stepping forward. He hadn't even thrown it that hard. He was barely at strength six the last time he'd checked the System, but the ball had still slammed into the kid's chest like a shot. The kid hit the ground with a solid whump, knocked flat by what should've been a light toss.
Kael muttered, "...Sorry."
For a moment, there was just the sound of wind and shifting gravel. Then the boy let out a low groan, followed by laughter.
"Dude!" he wheezed between chuckles. "Holy—I think I just met my ancestors."
He sat up, grinning, and scrambled to his feet, brushing gravel from his shirt and jeans. "You've got a serious arm, man. You tryna get me admitted to a hospital or what?" Orenji asked, rubbing his chest.
Kael didn't blink. "No. Just… miscalculated."
Orenji chuckled, half-laugh, half-gasp. "Miscalculated? Bro, that was a ballistic missile you threw my way."
Kael didn't reply. The boy remained still, tense. He wasn't defensive, neither was he apologetic, just watching. An unreadable silence hung between the both of them.
Orenji picked up the ball where it had rolled with a sigh, turning it in his hands. "Guess I'll count that as cardio then," he joked. "I'm Orenji, by the way."
There was a pause before the boy moved. He looked at the ball, then at Orenji, his expression unreadable. His hands stayed at his sides.
"…Kael," he mumbled at last, his voice low and rough, like it hadn't been used in a while.
Orenji nodded like he already knew. "Nice. Short. Sharp. Immovable like a rock. I like it."
Orenji took Kael's hand in a handshake.
Their forced grip was brief. Kael's hold was cold, not in temperature but in presence like someone who wasn't used to human contact, or maybe didn't trust it. Orenji noticed it, but didn't press. He let it go.
"You new here?" he asked, tilting his head. "Don't think I've seen you around these parts."
Kael shook his head. "Does it matter?"
Orenji shrugged. "Nah. You just look like someone trying real hard not to be noticed."
Kael glanced down at himself. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, his mask snug against his jaw. Layers of dark fabric wrapped around him like armor. More to hide than to protect.
He wasn't surprised by the comment. Just surprised it showed that much.
He narrowed his eyes.
"…Maybe."
Orenji chuckled.
"You've got that vibe, y'know? Quiet loner. Probably got some mysterious power or trauma or whatever. Real main-character energy."
Kael gave him a sidelong look, unsure whether to take that as a jab or not. Orenji just smiled, easy and unbothered.
"No offense," he added, shrugging. "I used to be like that too."
Kael's voice dropped quieter. "You're not now?"
"Eh. Depends on the day."
They stood there for a beat, the sun casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. Kael shifted slightly, as if unused to small talk or to being seen at all.
Probably both.
Moments after their hands had parted, Orenji flexed his fingers deliberately now, curling and stretching them as if testing the strength in each joint.
He filled the silence, casual as ever. "You've got a strong arm, though. Like, weirdly strong. Funny I should ask. You do sports?"
Kael hesitated. "…No."
Orenji got right into Kael's face, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hmm. Lemme guess," he said, grinning, locking eyes with him. "Secret vigilante? Alien experiment gone wrong? The Foundation, perhaps?"
The line was meant to be a joke but Kael flinched, almost too subtly to notice. Almost.
Orenji noticed.
He didn't let on.
Instead, he took a step back, half-turning like he was ready to leave.
"Just kidding," he said, raising his hands with a crooked smile. "But I've seen what I need to. You don't strike me as the alien type. Maybe cryptid, at best. But hey, if you ever wanna actually play, y'know, without trying to murder me, let me know."
Kael stared at him, unblinking. "…You sure do talk a lot."
Orenji grinned. "Only when someone's more silent than I am. That's rare. So rare infact. . . It makes me wonder."
Kael looked away, jaw tight. His fingers flexed slightly, as if resisting the urge to do something.
Then—
Clank.
The sound of heavy boots, metal against concrete, echoed down the street.
Orenji turned.
Three figures emerged from the fog.
Two of them were in old, reinforced police gear. Exo-suits, nothing fancy. Green lights blinked on the sides of their helmets, scanning as they walked. But the thing between them wasn't human.
A Centurion.
Nine feet tall. Jet-black armor. Red lights pulsing across its chest and shoulders. Its movements were slow, yet mechanical. Every step it took, releasing a hiss of pressurized air.
In its chest was a cockpit where a pilot could sit, controlling the machine.
Its arms ended in strange, claw-like grips. A weapon pod sat in its back, dormant… for now.
Kael felt his stomach drop.
The Centurion's scanner gave a low whine as it swept the street, pausing on him for half a second too long.
Then—
[DAILY QUEST: INCAPACITATE THE EGOIST]
Again.
The message flashed before his eyes. Only this time…
[TIMER INITIATED — 00:59:59]
Kael didn't move.
His jaw clenched.
This wasn't some glitch.
This was the system. Pushing him.
'Incapacitate the Egoist.'
His eyes flicked toward the Centurion.
Then to Orenji.
His thoughts spiraled. Wait... who's the Egoist?
Was it the machine?
Was it him?
The system had never explained its logic. Just gave orders.
And now it was counting down.
[TIMER — 00:59:45]
He didn't know what would happen if he ignored it.
But he had a feeling it wouldn't be gentle.
[TIMER — 00:59:32]
The seconds slipped by, cold and relentless.
[TIMER — 00:59:17]
The weight of the countdown pressed heavier on his chest.
[TIMER — 00:59:05]
He glanced again at the Centurion, then at Orenji.
[TIMER — 00:58:51]
The system was waiting. Expecting.
And Kael had no choice but to face it.