Five hunters in sleek suits, their insignias gleaming under the neon lights, advanced swiftly toward the table where the dealer and buyer sat, with practiced precision.
Weapons drawn, eyes sharp.
Cain cursed under his breath.
Damn it!
"You're surrounded! Don't even think about running!" one of them barked, a dagger glinting in his grip as he stepped forward.
The dealer stiffened, his breath hitching as he stuffed the package back into his coat.
His gaze snapped to the buyer—who, unlike him, remained unnervingly calm.
Then, in a flash, the buyer struck first.
A ripple of mana burst out in a sharp, precise explosion.
The advancing hunter barely had time to react before he was blasted off his feet.
His body crashed into a nearby stall, shattering wood and sending fruit rolling across the pavement.
Chaos erupted.
Screams filled the street.
Civilians shoved past each other in blind panic.
Chairs scraped against the pavement as restaurant-goers bolted from their tables.
Before the remaining hunters could recover, the buyer moved again.
A flick of his wrist—another pulse of energy.
The next two hunters staggered as the blast hit them head-on.
One was hurled into a vendor's cart, splintering it on impact.
The other slammed into an alley wall, groaning as he crumpled to the ground.
The final two hunters hesitated, eyes wide.
That moment was all the buyer needed.
With a sharp pivot, he bolted off, his long coat whipping behind him.
The Guild Hunters snapped back to reality, their focus locking onto the fleeing buyer.
"Go! After him!" one of them on the ground shouted.
And without hesitation, the two took off in pursuit, their boots pounding against the wet pavement.
Cain barely spared them or the buyer a glance.
His eyes were already on the real prize.
The handler… who ran in the opposite direction, still with the serum.
Cain's heart pounded.
This was his chance.
He didn't think.
The moment the dealer turned to flee, Cain was already in motion.
His feet pounded against the wet pavement, splashing through puddles as he tore through the alleyways in pursuit.
Broken crates, rusted fences, narrow gaps—he navigated them with ease.
As he ran, he wondered why the buyer hadn't taken the serum with him, but quickly concluded that it didn't matter, focusing on the pursuit.
The handler glanced back, eyes widening when he saw someone closing in.
He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, weaving through the labyrinthine streets in a desperate bid to escape.
A sharp left.
Then a right.
Another turn...
Dead end.
The handler skidded to a halt, nearly slipping on the slick ground.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he whirled around, frustration burning in his eyes.
But what he saw wasn't a Guild Association Hunter.
It was just some random guy his age in a hoodie.
"You?" he spat, eyes narrowing. "Who the hell are you?"
Cain's chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths.
He ignored the question, stepping forward as he extended his hand.
"The serum," he said, voice cold. "Hand it over."
The handler's frown deepened.
Then he scoffed.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
His fingers twitched, flexing.
"I ain't handing over shit. I don't know who you are, but you've got no clue who you're messing with. So reconsider whatever stupid idea you've got in your head and walk away."
Cain didn't respond.
There was no point.
He simply raised his fists.
This wasn't going to end without a fight.
Cain's ribs still throbbed from Adrian's earlier beating, but he forced the pain aside.
Didn't matter now.
The handler clicked his teeth in annoyance, then lunged first, his mana flaring, and Cain barely had time to react before the air around him warped.
His vision twisted, and his balance faltered.
"Shit!"
The world lurched sideways, and before he could fully process it, a fist reinforced with mana blasted past his head, missing by inches but smashing into the brick wall behind him.
BOOM!
The impact was devastating.
The wall exploded into shards of stone and dust.
Cain staggered back, gritting his teeth.
That wasn't just brute force.
The handler was using an ability.
A tricky and deceptive ability that manipulated the perception of distance and positioning within a limited range.
This meant that when the handler attacked, his strikes appeared either closer or farther than they actually were, forcing Cain to misjudge his dodges.
A punch that seemed meters away could suddenly land point-blank, while an incoming strike that looked imminent might be just out of reach.
This meant Cain would have to react on instinct alone.
And if he miscalculated even once, it would be him shattering instead of the bricks.
Another strike came.
And the air wavered.
Cain ducked, barely avoiding the fist that would've caved in his skull.
He barely had any mana. No abilities. Just training.
But he still had an edge.
And that was his ability to adapt.
Cain exhaled sharply, focusing—not on the distortions, but on the handler's movements.
The way his shoulders tensed before a punch, the slight shift in his stance before a kick.
He let go of what his eyes told him and trusted his instincts, as no matter how much the space distorted, body mechanics didn't lie.
When someone throws a punch, their shoulder naturally shifts before the arm extends. Before a kick, their hip and stance adjust to generate power.
By focusing on these cues instead of the illusion of distance, he could anticipate attacks and dodge correctly—even if his vision told him otherwise.
The next time the handler lunged, Cain sidestepped—not reacting to the false distance, but the real one.
His fist shot forward, slamming into the handler's ribs.
"Hh—kgh…!"
A wheezing gasp escaped the dealer.
Cain pressed the attack.
A sharp elbow to the throat. A kick to the knee. A brutal strike to the side of the head.
The handler staggered, eyes wide in disbelief.
Who the hell is this guy?
He knew he was stronger. He should have been stronger. That was why he had been so confident. But this…
Cain had adapted—too fast, too well. A lower-ranked opponent shouldn't have been able to keep up, let alone shut down his ability.
Cain charged at him once again, not giving the dealer any time to recover.
He tackled him, and the dealer thrashed, trying to warp the space between them, but Cain stayed close—too close—leaving no room for distortions.
A flaw of spatial distortion was that it required room to manipulate perception.
And Cain had managed to figure that out in such a short time.
With a sharp twist, Cain forced the dealer's arm behind his back and then slammed his head into the wall.
Again and again and again,
until the handler's body went limp.
Cain let go, and the handler's body fell to the ground, his face bloodied.
Then he exhaled, his limbs shaking.
"I won."
Cain exhaled sharply, trying to steady his breath.
His muscles ached, his ribs throbbed, and a thin trickle of blood slid down his forehead, warm against the cold night air.
He wiped it away with the back of his palm.
His fingers trembled as he reached for the package.
He couldn't believe it.
He had somehow managed to acquire the serum.
The key to everything.
But as he tore through the wrapping, what he found wasn't a vial.
It wasn't even a container.
It was a rock.
Cain's brows furrowed.
The stone was pitch black, its surface laced with intricate, glowing veins—like something alive, breathing.
Strange runes spiraled across it, shifting ever so slightly, as if they weren't carved but growing.
At first, he was disappointed by what he was looking at.
Then he felt a pulse.
Soft at first.
A faint hum, barely noticeable.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
The strange rock was giving off an unsettling vibe that made him feel nervous.
Was this the serum? Was he supposed to break it and something would come out? Was he supposed to down the contents and inject it into himself?
Cain didn't know.
There were so many questions, and the handler was unconscious, so he couldn't ask.
Then it happened.
The moment Cain's bloodstained fingers brushed against the strange rock, a sharp jolt tore through his veins, hot and consuming.
Then black veins exploded out of the rock, spreading and crawling over his skin like a brand.
And then...
Darkness.
*
A couple of minutes later, a Guild Hunter stepped into the alleyway, his boots splashing through shallow puddles.
His eyes landed on the handler lying unconscious on the ground, and he moved quickly, crouching beside him and grabbing the front of his shirt.
"Wake up," he barked, shaking him. "What happened here? Where is the serum?"
No answer came from the handler. Not even a twitch.
The Hunter's grip loosened, frustration rising.
He stood and scanned the alley.
The damage was obvious—fractured brickwork and a wall partially destroyed.
A fight had taken place here.
Then he saw it...
A package, ripped open and abandoned a few feet away.
He walked over and picked it up, inspecting the torn wrapping. It was empty.
He narrowed his eyes, his heart rate picking up.
The serum, or whatever had been inside, wasn't here anymore.
Someone had stolen it and escaped.