《Specter》


 A New Day

    A ceaseless downpour drenched the city, raindrops striking the concrete in relentless percussion. The sky loomed heavy, choked with brooding clouds that swallowed any hint of starlight. The streets lay in near silence, save for the rain''s endless cadence. It was 2:23 a.m. on a Thursday. Most homes were dark, their occupants long since retreated to bed, resigned to another workday on the horizon.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with,¡± Kal muttered, his voice low and steady, cutting through the rain''s rhythm.


    Clad in dark clothing, he balanced precariously on the edge of a rooftop. The building¡¯s slick surface shimmered faintly under the distant glow of a streetlamp. He adjusted his stance, stretching his arms deliberately before pulling a mask over his face. Below him lay a narrow alley, illuminated only in sections by buzzing fluorescent lights. A single dented trash can leaned haphazardly against the wall.


    He stepped forward and dropped.


    Three stories down, the air tore past him, his black scarf trailing like a phantom in the wind. The moment his boots struck the puddled ground, his body coiled low, absorbing the impact in a fluid, controlled motion.


    Thud.


    Water splashed up, soaking the hems of his pants, but he didn¡¯t flinch. Rising in one seamless movement, he faded into the shadows of the alley, retreating beyond the reach of the lights.


    He waited, crouched in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. His breathing slowed, steadying into a deliberate rhythm. Then came the sound he¡¯d been anticipating¡ªthe heavy, hurried steps of a man approaching.


    ¡°Ah, fuck! The Ps almost got me, man. I better get paid for this shit. It wasn¡¯t easy stealing tech like this. Had to get through all the rankers, too.¡±


    The voice belonged to a man in his late 30s, visibly out of shape and out of breath. Kal watched as the man stumbled into view, clutching a box to his chest. His grumbling grew louder as he patted himself down in a frantic search.


    ¡°Fuck! Did I drop my phone? I swear, I¡¯m retiring after this!¡±


    Kal remained motionless, watching. Waiting.


    Patience.


    When the man¡¯s focus strayed fully to his pockets, Kal moved. He darted forward, each step deliberate, every angle calculated. By the time the man looked up, it was already too late.


    In a swift motion, Kal yanked his scarf free and looped it around the man¡¯s neck. Pivoting to his back, he pulled tight.


    ¡°Spec¡ª!¡±


    The word barely escaped before the man¡¯s airway constricted. Three seconds. That was all it took.


    As the man collapsed, Kal lowered him carefully to the soaked ground, ensuring no sound would betray his position. He exhaled, relief mingling with the rain on his skin, and quickly scanned his surroundings.


    No onlookers.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got¡­¡± Kal muttered, crouching to inspect the box the man had carried so desperately. His brow furrowed. Despite its size, the package was surprisingly light. *Not jewelry. Not weapons. Then what?*


    Before he could dig deeper, the distant sound of boots splashing through puddles reached him. The Ps were close¡ªfive of them, at least, judging by the voices echoing through the alley.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Kal hissed, his mind racing. Leaving the box would be safer, but his prints were already all over it.


    Clutching the package, he sprinted. Ahead, a five-foot wall blocked the alley¡¯s exit. He vaulted off a nearby trash can, clearing the barrier with a slight scrape to his leg. Ignoring the sting, he pressed on, weaving through labyrinthine alleys and dodging the occasional drunk slumped against the walls.


    Fifteen minutes later, he reached the modest house he called home, slipping through the backyard gate with careful steps. He didn¡¯t bother latching it behind him.


    Sliding open his bedroom window, he placed the box on his bed and climbed inside.


    Finally, home.


    Kal tossed his soaked clothes into a heap and flicked on the heater, standing in his boxers as the warmth began to seep into the room. His toned frame reflected faintly in the windowpane¡ªlean but sturdy, a body honed more by necessity than vanity.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rubbed his hands together absently. Then it hit him.


    ¡°Wait¡­ My first day of school is tomorrow!¡±


    He scrambled to set an alarm for 6:30, muttering a curse under his breath. Pulling the blankets over himself, he shut his eyes and let exhaustion drag him under.


    Drr¡ª


    The alarm barely chirped before Kal shot upright, shoving the blankets and pillows aside.


    Three light knocks followed on his door, and it creaked open.


    ¡°Kal, it¡¯s time to wake up,¡± his mom¡¯s soft voice whispered.


    ¡°I know, Mom¡­¡± he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.


    ¡°Remember, you¡¯re catching the bus today, and I¡¯m working a 12-hour shift, so you¡¯ll have to walk home. Also, we¡¯re going to Halmonee¡¯s house tomorrow, so don¡¯t stay out too late tonight. Love you!¡± She kissed his cheek before retreating out his door.


    Kal mumbled an acknowledgment, dragging himself out of bed. His house was small¡ªa one-floor townhouse where every room felt connected. Stepping into the kitchen, he caught the smell of coffee. His nose wrinkled.


    Pulling open the fridge, he scanned its contents.


    Eggs and rice. That¡¯ll work.


    ¡°Alright I¡¯m going, have a good day!¡±


    ¡°Bye, love you.¡± Kal replied half heartedly.


    He grabbed the carton of eggs and a container of pre-cooked rice, setting them on the counter. Turning on the stove, he reached for a bowl, cracking two eggs into it with practiced precision.


    Grabbing a fork, he began scrambling.


    Salt and pepper. That¡¯s all you need. Anything else is overkill. Well not overkill but yeah.


    He opened the fridge again, pulling out raw butter¡ªthe farm kind. He smirked, knowing his mom would disapprove but refusing to settle for anything less.


    The butter sizzled as it hit the pan, melting into a golden pool. Kal poured in the eggs, keeping the heat low, his eyes fixed on the edges as they began to set.


    Not too fast. They¡¯ll overcook.


    He moved with mechanical precision, adjusting the flame, stirring at just the right moment, folding the eggs before they fully solidified. The rice beeped in the microwave, perfectly timed.


    The seconds ticked by, unnoticed. When he finally glanced at the clock, his heart lurched.


    20 minutes?! Damn it!


    ¡°Let¡¯s just hurry up and eat,¡± he muttered, shoveling the steaming food into his mouth. His tongue burned, but he ignored it, eyes darting to the clock.


    The rest of his morning became a frantic blur¡ªshowering, dressing, slathering product into his hair. Each task felt rushed, yet, it was a needed ritual.


    By the time he bolted out the door, bag in hand, it was already 7:30.


    In a dead sprint, his curls bounced on his head, not giving them any time to set in place, sweat beading on his skin. Looking down at his phone: 7:35. Only one more minute until the bus arrived.


    Arriving at the bus stop, the bus soon joined him.


    Just in time!


    He boarded as it pulled up. The ride was smooth, the AC cooling him down. It was obvious most freshmen were taking the bus based on their attire.


    15 minutes later, a robotic voice echoed throughout the bus:


    ¡°Now arriving at Prince Hill High.¡±


    The towering gates loomed ahead as the bus screeched to a halt. Kal stepped off, joining the crowd funneling toward the entrance.


    So this is it¡­


    The bell rang sharply, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the crumpled schedule he¡¯d hastily stuffed into his bag.


    *Engineering and Design, Building 206, Room 455.*


    Heart pounding, he ran inside the school gates, not even taking time to observe the school itself.


    *Damn! Shit! Fuck! Late on my first day?!*


    Running into the school was like navigating a maze. Past the enormous school gates, buildings of all shapes and sizes sprawled endlessly.


    ¡°Building 206, Room 455¡­¡± Kal muttered those words repeatedly, ingraining them in his brain.


    Turning every corner and checking every building number, all while frantically glancing at his phone, was starting to overload his brain.


    Wait, there it is!


    Quickly spotting the building, he darted inside. To his luck, Room 455 was right next to the entrance.


    Putting his phone in his pocket, fixing the collar of his shirt, taking deep breaths, and wiping sweat off his face, he was finally ready¡ªready for his first day.


    Turning the icy door handle, he was greeted by the chill breeze from the classroom AC. The room was dim, and all eyes were on him now


    He entered the room, stepping in front of the small class of what seemed to be 10 kids.


    ¡°H-Hi? Uh¡­ I¡¯m Kalyani, but you can just call me Kal. I¡¯m 16, and uh¡­ yeah¡­ nice to meet you all¡­¡±


    The sound of the AC was the only response.


    ¡°Mr. Kal, you may sit down,¡± a stern voice came from behind.


    ¡°Y-Yes, ma¡¯am¡­¡±


    Taking the only available seat¡ªthe one right in front of the teacher¡ªKal braced himself.


    This time the presence of the teacher took center stage.


    ¡°Alright, with introductions out of the way, let me introduce myself. You may call me Ms. Lumenberg. As you can see, I have the unfortunate displeasure of teaching engineering. For whatever reason you chose this, I don¡¯t know why¡ªyou should¡¯ve done your research. Answering all your questions before you ask them: the school is massive, spanning about 50 miles due to our large student body. We will be learning about engineering. Finally, this school sucks, but try to make the best of it. Alright, free time. Class will begin tomorrow.¡±


    This is going to be a long year¡­


    Ms. Lumenberg¡¯s brown hair fluttered as she sat down.


    ¡°Tough break, huh¡­¡± a voice whispered.


    A girl next to him nudged his shoulder. Her green eyes and baby-blue hair contrasted with her bronze skin. Her hair, slightly uneven, fluttered down to her lower back.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kal scoffed a little. ¡°Uh, what¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Eshara. Don¡¯t worry, I remember your name, Kal,¡± she said with a laugh.


    Huh, maybe this year won¡¯t be that bad¡­

 Chapter 2: Getting around

    The class returned back to its slumber after that brief interaction, no one dared look up from their phones or put their heads up. As if they were going to be punished if they did.


    Not much time later the bell rang, an announcement to get out of your seats and to your second class.


    Huh, from this it says my second class is Ps 101  well it can''t be that bad can it?


    Kal made no waste of time by exiting his seat and heading outside, finally being able to take in the vastness of the school. It was absurd how much money was clearly put into this school but everyone knows that the results show in its ranker and protector programs.


    ¡°Alright building 201 class 306¡­¡± Kal ingrained this next class deep into his head as he did last class.


    The transition time was 15 minutes, it was clear to Kal why they did that but most students treated it as a recess, presumably the upperclassmen.


    The buildings themselves all varied in size, structure and content contained.


    There¡¯s a lot of repeat buildings, but that¡¯s probably because of the sheer number of kids who go to this school¡­ ah there it is.


    Kal arrived at the front door of the building labeled ¡°Ps studies and Fundamentals.¡±


    Entering the door he could see it was pretty full, and more lively than his last building. The quality difference is there. And it was cleaner than the last.


    Alright this class can¡¯t be worse than the last¡­


    Kal peeled the door open, the fluorescent light struck his eyes causing them to wince slightly.


    ¡°Hey! Welcome to my class!¡± The teacher jumped out her seat immediately greeting him at the front door.


    Kal jumped back slightly.


    Eh, she¡¯s uh quite energetic.


    ¡°Good morning ma¡¯am¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah! No need for formalities as I¡¯m a student teacher!¡± Her eye¡¯s sparkled.


    Makes sense, what teacher has blonde hair with black and red streaks? Is she 12?


    Kal let out an uncomfortable chuckle, ¡°Your hair is uh nice, uh what¡¯s your name again sorry I didn¡¯t catch it the first time?¡±


    ¡°Thanks! I cut it myself, although I wanted it a little longer than shoulder length¡­ Oh yeah my name is Rita! You¡¯re uh¡­¡± She paused for a bit and then quickly whipped to her desk to presumably check her student attendance.


    ¡°Oh yeah Kal! My only student¡­¡±


    ¡°Erg! Only student? What do you mean by only student..?¡±


    ¡°Well yeah turns out ¡®others¡¯ aren¡¯t very popular on earth, plus I''m still getting used to the customs of this place¡­¡± her head dropped down.


    Wow, I would¡¯ve never guessed she was an ¡®other¡¯, I mean it¡¯s not like I have anything against them but still¡­


    ¡°Yeah, sorry about that¡­¡± An uncomfortable chuckle left his mouth.


    ¡°Eh it¡¯s fine, I don¡¯t really mind. I guess I learned to put up with it in a weird sense?¡±


    Kal slowly positioned himself out the doorway and into the classroom, sitting in the one available chair which was in another compromising position and one he wasn¡¯t sure if he was quite comfortable in.


    Are you serious, in front of the teacher again?!


    Nethertheless he took his seat, the only seat, right in front of the teacher again, the teacher''s desk to be exact.


    The bell rang again, indicating that class was about to start.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Well I guess it¡¯s time for class to start, but to be honest, I don¡¯t really have a lesson plan¡­ So let¡¯s just talk!¡±


    ¡°Uh, okay¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah come on, no need for the formalities or uptightness like I said. We¡¯re practically the same age. I¡¯m 16 as well, give or take a couple years.¡± Her voice brimmed with excitement.


    ¡°Well okay then, I¡¯m Kal and I¡¯m 16 on the nose, no giving or taking for me.¡± He laughed a little.


    ¡°See you¡¯re lucky, because where I¡¯m from they don¡¯t really track your age unless you were a noble or the such, you kind of just go by major events when you were born and just count the seasons from there.¡±


    ¡°Damn that¡¯s tuff, So I assume you were er not a peasant but a normal working citizen?¡±


    ¡°Yeah basically, times have changed, back then before there was no ¡®middle class¡¯ as you people on earth call it from what my parents have told me. But ever since king Azan regained control of his family and the continent things have been going pretty good!¡±


    ¡°Ah I see, and I take it you weren¡¯t born into a family of farmers or the such cause of well¡­¡±


    Kal¡¯s eyes focused on her snow skin and slender arms.


    ¡°Yeah we weren¡¯t very outdoorsy people, we were actually librarians!¡±


    ¡°Oh nice, I do enjoy visiting the library from time to time, what kind of books did y''all have?¡±


    ¡°Well we actually were a kara based library, so we stocked books on all that kind of stuff.¡±


    ¡°Kara? I think I¡¯ve heard of that in the news but isn¡¯t that an energy resource they¡¯re trying to harvest from the fractures? I mean back then before the shattering and revolution I heard there were traces of kara but now it¡¯s gone. Is it not?¡± Kal voices rose.


    ¡°Yeah well the kara they¡¯re harvesting is just a pure form of kara which can¡¯t be filtered by regular humans, the one I¡¯m talking about is what you¡¯d call ¡®magic¡¯.¡±


    Kal¡¯s eyes lit up.


    ¡°Ah! Sort of like the glyphic code? I think that¡¯s what it¡¯s called.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Rita jumped out her seat, ¡°Well actually did you know that the glyphic code is a subset of kara? For some reason even though my world''s magic poured into yours years ago your bodies never adapted even though physiologically we¡¯re both considered humans!¡±


    ¡°Wow, something I actually didn¡¯t know¡­ For some reason I had always assumed that glyphic code was just always a natural place in this world.¡±


    ¡°To be honest you kind of have the same principles as kara, with some differences as it¡¯s much more scholarly? I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s the word but there are a lot more rules per say. It¡¯s not all that different though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to learn the fundamentals but I had never really had the money , much less a suitable mentor¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, you know¡­¡± Rita dragged out the O syllable, mischief glinting in her eyes. ¡°If you want, I could teach you the basics? Kara¡¯s not so different from your glyphic code¡ªsame energy source, just filtered through different rules.¡±


    Kal¡¯s pulse quickened. Glyphic code was restricted to rankers and protectors, a luxury his mom¡¯s salary couldn¡¯t touch. ¡°You¡¯d do that? Even though you¡¯re  not¡­ y¡¯know, authorized?¡±


    Rita snorted. ¡°Where I¡¯m from, knowledge isn¡¯t locked behind paywalls or the such. Kara¡¯s in our blood, our libraries, even our farming tools.¡± She twirled a strand of her streaked hair, voice softening. ¡°Then the fractures opened, your world started mining raw kara like it¡¯s oil, and suddenly everyone¡¯s obsessed with ¡®pure¡¯ energy. But they¡¯re missing the point. Kara isn¡¯t just power¡ªit¡¯s like your language. And glyphic code? That¡¯s just your dialect.¡±


    Kal leaned forward. ¡°So the Shattering, that¡¯s where kara came from?¡±


    ¡°Bingo. Your world tried to industrialize magic. Ours lived with it.¡± She shrugged. ¡°King Azan¡¯s reforms back home balanced things¡ªlibraries for nobles and regular folks. Here?¡± She gestured to the empty classroom. ¡°There¡¯s been some reforms I see for better teaching but unless you''re really talented you¡¯re not going far.¡±


    ¡°But glyphic code isn¡¯t even true kara, right?¡± Kal pressed. He¡¯d seen the newsreels¡ªrankers wielding glowing symbols like weapons, Protectors erasing riots with a flick of their wrists. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ a knockoff?¡±


    ¡°A knockoff with training wheels,¡± Rita said, grinning. ¡°Your bodies can¡¯t handle raw kara, so someone or something diluted it into glyphs. Safe, predictable, boring. But the principles are the same. Learn the glyphs, and you¡¯re halfway to understanding.¡±


    Kal¡¯s mind raced. If glyphs were a shadow of Rita¡¯s kara, what could the real thing do? ¡°And you¡¯d teach me? No¡­ strings?¡±


    ¡°None.¡± A smile formed.


    ¨^¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨a


    By the time lunch came into play, Kal wasn¡¯t as hungry as he usually would be because of his breakfast.


    Beep Beep!


    A golf cart sped by, honking at students who were unsuspecting of it.


    ¡°Move out the way dickheads!¡± A boy¡¯s voice yelled, it seemed to have come from the golf cart.


    Bastard gets a golf cart? While we peasants have to walk around?


    ¡°What a dickhead¡±


    ¡°What a dickhead¡±


    Kal turned to his right, face to face with the voice that echoed his thoughts.


    Green eyes, a blonde buzz that was the first thing Kal noticed.


    ¡°Wow¡­¡±


    ¡°Wow¡­¡±


    ¡°Another brother in this school?!¡±


    ¡°Another brother in this school?!


    ¡°Bro, I swear to you not, there¡¯s barely any folk in this school mane.¡±


    ¡°You tellin me, especially me? look at me you a lightskin i¡¯m dark so imagine how I feel, ain¡¯t no blending in for me at all! Not that I care though.¡± he bursted out laughing


    ¡°Man, stop playin with me.¡±


    ¡°Aye, I got another class during this, you got lunch?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, damn they for real got you with the later lunch huh?¡±


    ¡°I was trippin when I first saw my schedule but I gotta get used to it anyways, I would skip it to hang with you but it¡¯s the first day, gotta make good impressions.¡±


    ¡°I feel you, man, I¡¯m boutta go eat for real.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name? If we catch each other tomorrow with the same lunch, let''s eat together.¡±


    ¡°Kalyani, you can just call me Kal though.¡±


    ¡°Alright bet, my name¡¯s Sylas.¡±


    ¡°Alright Ima catch you then.¡±


    ¡°Bet.¡±

 Winstons Diagnosis 1

    Kal and Sylas went their separate ways.


    Sylas slipped deeper into the school¡¯s labyrinthine corridors, while Kal advanced¡ªswerving around clusters of chatting students, his head lowered against the bustle.


    He strode to the caf¨¦, a place that never sparked his interest.


    Beef stew? You¡¯ve got to be kidding me¡­


    Shaking his head in resignation, Kal left the caf¨¦ and headed for his next class: math. He slid into a seat as the bell rang. The class unfolded exactly as he expected¡ªa slow orientation, awkward ice breakers, and a bland overview of what lay ahead.


    Ugh, and my last period is world history. Could this day drag on any longer?


    ¨^¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨a


    Kal caught the rhythmic bell echoing through the school¡¯s speakers, its tone filling every classroom.


    Finally, the day ended. World history¡ªthe worst of them all. I almost miss the chaos of my first two periods... at least then, something felt different.


    Merging into the dispersing crowd, Kal¡¯s phone chimed a soft ¡°Ding!¡± that snapped him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen:


    ¡°Hey, you have to walk home btw, I¡¯m working a 12-hour shift so I won¡¯t be back until later¡ªbut I made some salmon for dinner.¡±


    His face scrunched at the message from his mom.


    Ugh, annoying.


    Quickening his pace, Kal raced to beat the sunset and get home early.


    Before long, he arrived¡ªexactly 3:30.


    A 30-minute walk? Not too bad.


    He pushed the door open and discovered the house unusually empty¡ªa rare sight. If his sister wasn¡¯t lounging somewhere, then his brother; if not them, then his mother... and if none of them occupied the space, maybe this was his chance. He admitted to himself that he sometimes relished the solitude.


    Oh shit, I gotta plan for tonight!


    He bolted to his room and double-checked the lock on the front door.


    Alright, I¡¯ve mapped out almost everything. Now, I just have to decide how I¡¯m going to deal with him¡­


    Maybe the strangling route again? But what if they use the glyphic code? Then again, only level 5 and above anti protectors can handle that. Not exactly in my jurisdiction¡­ For now¡­


    Kal fired up his laptop, typed in his password swiftly, and opened a document.


    -Document File: Winston Smith-


    His eyes narrowed as he scanned his notes:This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Winston Smith, 36, father of two¡ªa normal prison guard, a family man. Prisoners whisper his name without malice; he always shows up for his two daughters. One of them, a talented protector, even studies at Kal¡¯s school in a level 5 class. The other, less gifted but smart, supports her sister openly. They flaunt their alliance, proud to work together.


    Scrolling down, he stopped at a bold ¡°IMPORTANT¡± section:


    In the end, bygones will be bygones. He functions like a disease that requires control¡ªand a doctor has taken notice.


    The notes itemized his injustices:


    Families pay him to lock inmates in rival gang areas. He feeds inmates into fractures. He ignores brutal assaults. Winston acts like one of the cancers plaguing this world. And, sadly, that isn¡¯t even the worst part¡­


    Kal exhaled deeply and rubbed his forehead.


    Alright, might as well eat and take a nap¡ªanother late night awaits, huh, Kal?


    ¨^¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨a


    As the moon climbed high, Kal¡¯s body stirred on its own.


    It¡¯s already 11 p.m.


    He checked his phone; the time read exactly 11:00.


    Kal methodically dressed: first, he pulled on a pair of black, flowy sweats that wouldn¡¯t restrict his movement; next, a black tank top, then a tight, long-sleeved black shirt.


    I¡¯ll keep warm with this. My body must stay ready.


    He then pulled on black socks and laced up jet-black shoes, all stripped of brand markings¡ªa true ghost in the night.


    Finally, he launched into his ritual.


    He began with a series of controlled stretches, timing each pose with his phone to ensure he stretched neither too much nor too little. Next, he performed his light exercise: pushups, squats, shadow boxing, and hops¡ªeach executed at exactly 50% exertion.


    My mom should sleep by now, but I might as well use these minutes to meditate¡ªjust in case.


    Lying in bed fully dressed with the window ajar (letting in the cool night without stealing his warmth), Kal inhaled three deep, rhythmic breaths. He cleared his mind and refilled it with one unyielding thought.


    Just have to take care of the plague before it spreads.


    An alarm on his phone cut off his meditation.


    Slowly, he rose and executed the final part of his ritual.


    He grabbed a knife from a cluttered desk drawer and held it over a gold ring engraved with ¡°K¡± on his finger. With a steady hand, he slit his left finger, watching a single drop of blood land on the ring.


    It is complete. What does Dexter say? ¡°Tonight¡¯s the night¡±?


    Ergh, that sounds kind of edgy coming from me. Whatever¡ªI¡¯ve got a house call to a patient, and it¡¯s urgent.


    Taking one last deep breath, Kal pulled his ski mask over his face.


    Better get out before my mom catches me with my shoes still on.


    ¨^¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T¨T?¨T¨T¨a


    Kal moved with practiced, almost effortless grace. Every leap, every bound, he converted into further motion without pause.


    In just three months, he reached the pinnacle of parkour. He dashed across rooftops, swung from balconies, and wallran¡ªlike a modern-day Spiderman. He didn¡¯t inherit any natural wall-clinging ability; he earned it through relentless hours of training. Still, he sometimes chided himself for having to work hard for something he assumed should come naturally. Yet when he succeeded, he shone.


    I should be close¡­ Kal murmured.


    He picked up his pace as a cool wind whipped the night. Then, at a precise moment, he planted his left foot, halting his momentum as if on cue.


    ¡°Hah! Did you see their faces? They looked like scared bitches when I said they headed for cell block D! I didn¡¯t expect those savages to skin them alive, though! Zaha! No matter¡ªhe had no family anyway.¡±


    From the shadows of a nearby building, a stout man with a clean head and full beard strode out¡ªavoiding the prying eyes of his wife.


    I can¡¯t wait any longer. It¡¯s time to give a diagnosis.


    Kal leapt off the building¡¯s edge. Like a cat, he landed silently in front of three men.


    ¡°Who is this fucker, huh? Move out of my way¡ªwe¡¯re trying to have a nice night out,¡± Winston barked, shoving past Kal.


    Kal tightened his grip on Winston¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Winston, charged with accepting bribes, torturing prisoners, and manslaughter¡ªyou¡¯re truly deplorable.¡±


    Winston scoffed and stepped back with a condescending grin. ¡°You¡¯ve got some nerve, twerp. I¡¯d be surprised if your reputation even reached my ears,¡± he taunted, the size difference obvious¡ªWinston¡¯s towering frame against Kal¡¯s lean build.


    Kal¡¯s tone turned ice-cold. ¡°Is that the best you¡¯ve got? As your primary physician, I¡¯ll relay your final words to your family.¡±