The information flooded my mind like a tsunami of data, almost overwhelming in its complexity.


    Each patch of the city told multiple stories simultaneously, layers upon layers of possible circumstances all competing for attention. It was like trying to read thousands of books at once, each written in a different color of ink, each telling a different possible version of the next few hours, days, and months.


    I had learned long ago not to process everything at once. It was impossible. Instead, I let my mind sift through the patterns, searching for clusters of significance—shapes and colors that hinted at immediate concern.


    Jade''s voice pulled me back, soft but charged with curiosity. “What do you see?”


    I hesitated, struggling for the right words. How do you describe seeing luck as a physical force, as tangible as gravity? The kaleidoscope of colors in my vision shifted constantly, alive with meaning, yet hard to pin down.


    But then my gaze snagged on something: in the eastern quarter of our view, a cluster of deep crimson began to form. It gathered like a storm cloud, jagged and triangular, and grew larger with every passing second. Crimson always meant violence, but not the kind born of chaos or chance—this was deliberate, with intent. The shape solidified, and I realized it looked like a bridge collapsing.


    “There,” I said, pointing toward it. “Something’s about to happen in that direction.”


    Jade leaned closer, her brow furrowing as she followed my finger. “What kind of ‘something’?”


    Looking deeper into the pattern, I began to see silver threads snaking out from the crimson cluster, reaching into other parts of the city. Smaller nodes of similar colors flickered in response, creating a web of connection. The lines pulsed with preparation and intent.


    “This isn’t random,” I said, more to myself than to Jade. “It’s too structured. I can see threads spreading —connections to other places. This is organized.”


    “Organized how? A protest? A heist?”


    “More likely a fight,” I replied. “Between two criminal groups. Crimson means violence, but it’s not aimless. This is calculated, a power move.”


    Jade frowned, “You’re sure?”


    “As sure as I can be.” My eyes darted back to the web of colors, noting the steady expansion of the crimson cluster and its ties to smaller nodes. “If we’re lucky, it’ll burn itself out before it spreads.”


    “And if we’re not?” Her tone had shifted.


    I glanced at her, noting the tension in her jaw. “Then they might alert the City Protectors and other Supers teams. This kind of alignment doesn’t stop on its own.”


    She asked, her voice bright with excitement, “Should we go and take part?”


    I shook my head immediately, the answer coming without hesitation. “It has nothing to with us,” I said firmly.


    Her enthusiasm dimmed for a moment, but she didn’t argue. After a while, we found ourselves taking a car ride down the road—not toward the eastern direction where we’d been focusing earlier, but heading west, toward the Western District. Something about the area had caught my attention. A small red storm slowly taking shape in a small patch of the area—it felt like something interesting, or dangerous, was brewing there.


    Jade, never one for silence, broke the quiet. “You should have told me more about your meta nature.” Her tone was edged with disappointment as we walked, and a slight pout tugged at her lips. “We could have done this three days ago and saved so much time,” she added, her words tinged with frustration.


    “I told you it’s complicated,” My relationship with my meta nature was indeed complex. There was no easy way to explain everything about it, at least not in a short conversation. The answer didn''t satisfy her - Jade humped and sped up slightly, leaving me behind. It was easy to tell she was itching to fly over to the place.


    After getting off in an abandoned area, the road stretched relatively empty before us as we strode on. The area was under construction, though work had clearly stopped long ago - abandoned equipment and half-finished structures—an ideal setting for criminal activity.


    Through my vision, the red storm in the Western District became clearer, its intricacies taking shape. It wasn’t large yet, but the layers told a story:


    The base of the storm glowed light blue—a fragile, temporary peace holding it in place.


    Threads of pink wove through it—minor conflicts bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.


    For now, the storm remained caged, neither expanding nor contracting.


    But signs of a breakdown were forming at the edges, cracks in the delicate balance. The tension was palpable, like a taut string about to snap.


    I glanced at Jade as we walked. Her meta nature had always been... unique. In my vision, her uniqueness seeped into the red storm, her power adding a dizzying array of colors to the mix. It was like rainbows bursting through the chaos, blending and swirling too quickly for me to make sense of. Where I might normally see defined patterns, her influence made the storm unpredictable. Guns and bikes littered the field in my mind’s eye, broken pieces scattered amidst the chaos. Jade’s presence could either stabilize the storm or shatter it entirely, and there was no way to know which it would be.


    “You’re doing it again,” Jade said, her voice pulling me back to the present.


    “Doing what?” I asked.


    “Overthinking.” She gave me a wry smile, though there was still a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Just tell me where to go and what to punch.”


    I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “It’s not that simple. If we move too fast, we might change the outcome.”


    “And if we don’t move at all?” she challenged, arching an eyebrow.


    The storm flickered in my vision, its edges fraying further. I sighed. “Then we’ll see what happens when it collapses on its own.”


    Jade’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening with determination. “I don’t like waiting,” she muttered.


    <hr>


    Once we reached what felt like the perfect distance from the eye of the storm in my vision, I stopped abruptly. “Be careful from now on,” I said, my voice low but firm.


    Jade halted mid-step and turned to look at me, “What?”


    “It might be the base of some small-time criminals,” I began, motioning for her to step to the side with me. I needed to explain the situation properly. “But just because the base is small doesn’t mean their meta nature can be underestimated. More dangerous than people like you who can control the outcomes.”


    Her eyebrows shot up at that. “More dangerous than me?” she repeated, a hint of challenge in her voice.


    I nodded. “Because they don’t have bottom lines, principles they abide by. For their survival, they’ll do anything—and I mean anything. They’ll kill without hesitation.”


    “These aren’t the kinds of people who fight for a cause or even for power. They fight because they have nothing left to lose. That makes them reckless, unpredictable, and willing to cross lines you’d never dream of.”


    Jade crossed her arms, but I could see her processing my words. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked, though her voice carried a slight edge of defiance.


    I studied her carefully, weighing how far to push. “What will you do if they fire a shot at you?” I asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.


    She might not give second thoughts before jumping into dangerous situations, but I had never found such recklessness fun. Too many memories, too many consequences I''d seen unfold.


    “Fire back,” she said without hesitation. Her hand instinctively dropped to her thigh, where her plasma blaster was holstered.


    Typical Jade—confidence overflowing, even in the face of uncertainty. I sighed, shaking my head. “And what happens if their bullets don’t matter? What if it’s not bullets, but something else entirely? Something you can’t just blast your way through?”


    Her expression faltered for a moment before she shrugged. “Then I’ll figure it out,” she said, though her voice had lost some of its bravado.


    I nodded slowly. “We won’t have to worry about bullets. Even if they rain down like broken clouds, your meta nature will keep us safe from that. But what about attacks from other meta-natures? You know as well as I do how unpredictable they can be.”


    Furthermore, I had to make her think about the opposite scenario, about being the one causing harm.


    Then, I smiled slightly, though there was no humor in it. “But what if you blast a hole through one of them, and they die?”


    She frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. I could see she hadn’t fully thought it through, and that’s exactly why I pressed further. The question hit home, exactly as intended, plunging her into a moral dilemma she hadn’t fully considered. I was asking her, point-blank, if she was prepared to take a life.


    For me, the answer had been forged in the fires of necessity long ago. I’d taken lives in the war I was thrown into, each one adding another weight to my already burdened conscience. But Jade? Could she make that choice? Could she face the reality of battle, where decisions had to be made in an instant, and not let the consequences shatter her afterward?


    The silver in her eyes seemed to dim as she wrestled with the question. This wasn’t about her power anymore—it was about her willingness to wield it lethally. About crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. I watched her face carefully, seeing the weight of my words sink in, seeing her start to grapple with what being a hero—or even just a survivor—might actually require. Morality had a way of becoming a fragile thing in moments like this.


    After a long pause, she looked up at me, confusion etched across her features. “Can’t we just… capture them? Stop them without killing anyone?”


    I clicked my tongue softly, shaking my head. “Do you think they’re cattle, letting you herd them into pens with bells around their necks? These people would rather die than end up in jail.”


    Her brow furrowed as the bluntness of my words settled over her. I pressed on. “Even if we did manage to capture them, how can you be sure they wouldn’t have connections inside the jails? Or escape? Besides…” I hesitated, knowing the next part would sting. “We’re criminals ourselves in the eyes of the law. If we hand them over, the authorities would sooner lock us up than them. Do you really think we have the luxury of playing savior?”


    Jade fell silent, staring at the ground. Then, after a long moment, she asked something else entirely, “Will you be on my side… always?”


    Her question caught me off guard. What was brewing in big head of hers now? Still, “Always,” I replied after a beat, though her tone left me uneasy. What exactly did she mean by ‘always’? Was it the same ‘always’ I was thinking of, or something entirely different? My thoughts spiraled absurdly for a moment—was I being friendzoned in the middle of this serious conversation?


    But then her voice broke through again, softer this time, tinged with uncertainty. “What if I did something wrong? Would you still be on my side then?”


    I hesitated, giving her question the serious thought it deserved. Finally, I replied, “For as long as you think of me as a friend, I’ll still be with you, even if you did something wrong. Though…” I added with a wry smile, “I might have to kill my own conscience in the process.”


    Her face lit up with a bright smile, the kind that was impossible to fake. Her joy was unmistakable, though it left me slightly unsettled. Was she happy about me potentially killing my conscience for her? That was… odd. But then again, she’d always been a little odd. Maybe that’s what made her, well, her.


    Her voice turned serious again, her smile fading. “And what if my existence… threatens your principles?”


    What the fuck?… What it has got to do with our current situation. I was confused and stumped. Still, I guess I had to answer when I saw her bright expectant eyes.


    “A promise is a promise,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the discomfort twisting inside me. “I’ll try to save you before it ever comes to that.”


    “And if you can’t?” she pressed, her gaze unwavering.


    I took a breath, holding her gaze as I replied. “Then I’ll still be by your side. I’ll find a way to fix it, one way or another. But I won’t give up. Not ever.”


    For the first time since we’d started this conversation, she seemed genuinely reassured. But in the back of my mind, I wondered how far I’d have to go to keep that promise—and whether I’d recognize myself when it was all over.


    "Last question?" Jade asked, her tone softer now, as if she could sense the tension building inside me.


    Stop It! I groaned, thinking I shouldn’t have started this, I pulled my hairs inwardly.


    Jade stared at the ground, her hair falling forward like a curtain to shield her expression. “Why do you care so much about me? What am I to you?”


    I drew in a long, deep breath—the kind you take when you’re trying to wrestle unruly thoughts into submission. Something was off about her, and I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe she was angry—angry about the meta nature secrets I’d kept, about the way I’d blamed her earlier. Or maybe it was something deeper, something I wasn’t seeing.


    If I knocked on her head right now, would that count as domestic abuse? The thought almost made me laugh, but the seriousness of her question anchored me. But maybe the rules could be ignored just this once.


    Another dozen sarcastic responses came to mind, ready to deflect or lighten the moment, but none of them seemed fitting. This wasn’t the time for jokes. It was rare for Jade to ask questions like this, rarer still for her to let herself be vulnerable enough to ask them.


    Jade kept her face hidden, but I wasn’t any better. My eyes locked onto a jagged piece of broken concrete nearby as if it held the answers I didn’t have. The truth was messy, complicated. What did she expect me to say? That I’d fallen for her at first sight? Or maybe second sight? I didn’t even know if I believed in love, not in the way most people did. My past relationships had all fallen victim to the stretches of time and space, each one ending before it could really begin. After a while, I''d stopped putting myself in positions where these feelings could develop.


    Still, something was different with her. She had a way of altering things—possibilities, outcomes, sure, but also the foundations of my ordered world. Whether it was her chaos bleeding into my orderly life or something more profound, I couldn’t say. But the change was undeniable, and it scared me in ways I didn’t fully understand.


    I suddenly felt like I knew less about myself than I had five minutes ago. Courage seemed to have abandoned me entirely. Yet, somehow, I forced myself to take a step toward her. My heart hammered against my ribs as I noticed the redness creeping up her pale face. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Did she have a fever? Why was she rubbing her arms? And why the hell were my hands trembling like I was an awkward teenager instead of an experienced time traveler?


    “I…” The word scraped out of my throat, dry and hoarse, betraying my nerves.


    My mind spiraled in self-mockery. If any other time traveler existed, they’d probably commit suicide out of secondhand embarrassment watching me stumble through this. I was supposed to be wise, experienced—ageless, for God’s sake. Instead, here I was, fumbling like the biggest idiot to ever tumble through time.


    Jade shifted slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine. The silver in her eyes shimmered like molten metal, filled with an emotion I couldn’t name but that made my knees weak. Her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to say something—but then…


    “Hey, who are you guys?”


    The interruption was simultaneously the most unwelcome and welcome sound I’d ever heard in my life.


    Relief surged through me, but so did frustration.


    The moment shattered, evaporating like smoke in the wind.


    My heart, which had been dangerously close to exploding, immediately shifted into battle mode.


    We both snapped to attention, the charged moment between us disintegrating like smoke. Villain! The thought struck us simultaneously, and our hands instinctively flew to our blasters, ready to draw.


    But instead of an enemy charging toward us, the man standing there stammered awkwardly, “If you’re looking for a quiet place to, uh, you know… do your thing,” he began, his voice uneven and nervous, “try somewhere else. This area isn’t safe, and, uh, there are a lot of cameras.”


    Jade and I froze, our thoughts grinding to a halt as we processed what he’d just implied. His tone wasn’t aggressive, more cautious than confrontational, but his assumption sent both our minds reeling.


    “What?” Jade blurted, her expression twisting in disbelief.


    I was equally dumbfounded.


    The man shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between us. “I mean… I’m not judging or anything. You don’t have to explain. Just, uh, maybe not here? People might… you know, get the wrong idea.”


    Jade’s face went crimson, and not from any lingering fever. “The wrong idea?!” she practically shouted, her voice hitting an octave I didn’t think was possible.


    I rubbed a hand over my face. What the hell did this guy think we were about to do? Worse—had he been listening to our conversation?


    I looked him over more carefully now. Dirty clothes, an unkempt beard—he appeared somewhat homeless (maybe just in my thoughts), the kind of person we might have unconsciously filtered out of our awareness while we were focused on each other. My eyes darted to Jade. She looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and pull the ground over herself. Her face was redder than a warning light.


    A horrible realization hit me: the area near the abandoned construction site wasn’t as abandoned as we’d thought. And all the raw, awkwardly personal things we’d just said to each other might not have been as private as we’d assumed.


    Jade’s embarrassment was palpable, and she finally pointed a shaking finger at the man. “We weren’t—what makes you think we—this is so—UGH!” Words failed her, and she spun around, her hands flying to her hair as if she could physically pull the embarrassment out of her head.


    The man shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes flicked nervously between us. “I mean… I’m not judging or anything. You don’t have to explain. People nowadays have all sorts of, uh… kinks. Just maybe not here? The folks around this area… they’re not the good kind. They might, you know, record you. Secretly. And then put the whole thing on the HyperSpace.”


    I blinked, my mind grinding to a halt at the absurdity of his words.


    “The wrong idea?!” Jade’s voice hit an octave that could shatter glass. “HyperSpace?!”


    My thoughts scrambled for footing. Did this guy think we were into… public stuff or something?


    Jade whirled on me, eyes wide with mortification and fury.


    What? I didn''t do anything! Don''t give me that look. I wanted to say everything loud.


    But, before I could say anything, another figure dashed from the shadows inside the building. This one was sharper, his movements quicker, his eyes immediately locking onto us. He scanned us once, and it was clear he’d noticed our costumes beneath the trench coats. Without a word, he spun on his heel and bolted back into the structure, his shouts echoing through the empty halls.


    “Old man, run!” I snapped, grabbing Jade’s hand and dragging her toward cover nearby. My other hand drew my blaster in a single motion, the cool metal familiar and reassuring in my grip.


    “Oh my god,” Jade suddenly muttered, her hand clutched mine tightly, warm and steady despite the sudden chaos. “We are never talking about this again.”


    Though she said that there was an electric excitement in her grip, and her earlier embarrassment instantly evaporated turning into something—I could almost feel the thrill coursing through her. We ducked behind a pile of large marble tiles.


    “What now?” she asked, her voice a mix of exhilaration and focus, completely forgetting about our earlier encounter.


    My vision shifted for just moments, but those moments were enough to stop my breathing entirely. My gaze hardened as I processed what I was seeing. The sheer volume of events altering changes, and radiation being discharged from Jade was staggering - fortune and misfortune bleeding into the area with an intensity that felt suffocating.


    The patterns were overwhelming. Fortune trails splitting and fracturing. Misfortune pooling in dark eddies. Possibilities warping around Jade''s presence. Patterns breaking and reforming chaotically. Probability threads tangling and snapping.


    I had the distinct feeling that her meta nature would leave residuals here long after we''d gone - like radiation lingering after an explosion. The people inside were about to experience something beyond their comprehension - not an awakening, but rather a deep sleep.


    My breathing deepened as I studied her. Jade was dangerous—not to the people around her (I didn’t care much for them or the surroundings)—but to herself. The sheer amount she was bleeding into reality wasn’t normal. I’d seen other Uniques bleed their power before, even S-rank emitters who burned brighter than a thousand suns on the battlefield when they unleashed their meta nature. But this? This was different. Unstable. Frightening.


    Emitters were like batteries, massive reservoirs of potential, anchoring points. But batteries could overheat. If Jade kept bleeding unchecked, it wouldn’t just destroy others—it would destroy her, too.


    She shouldn''t be Bizarre... at least not yet.


    She seemed stable for now, but the keyword was “for now.”


    I opened my mouth to say something, to warn her, but the sound of a gunshot cut me off. The first shot was followed immediately by a second. My instincts kicked in, and I turned toward the source, blaster raised. But before I could react, Jade grabbed my wrist and pulled me along, her excitement palpable in the way her body brimmed with energy.


    Her strange love for chaos was evident in every movement. Her strides were purposeful, eager, as if every bullet flying past only fueled her. Shots either missed us entirely or grazed past, veering off as if the wind itself were redirecting them. Her presence warped outcomes, and it showed. The environment bent around her, shifting in subtle, almost imperceptible ways that kept us safe—for now.


    But something gnawed at me, a question that refused to leave my mind amidst the fight. Why couldn’t I remember any large-scale reality changes from the last two cycles? Jade’s power wasn’t the kind that could go unnoticed. Had she been contained? Secured in some facility?


    Meanwhile, while firing back, Jade hadn’t released my wrist, still dragging me forward as her laughter rang out, vibrant and carefree despite the chaos erupting around us.


    “You’re too slow!” she teased, glancing back at me with a grin that didn’t match the tension in the air.


    I barely had time to respond as we rounded a corner. Across from us, seven people had taken positions, ducking behind cover. Jade had already shot two dead, their bodies crumpled amidst the debris.


    Shock tightened my chest as I realized how quickly she’d acted, how little hesitation she’d shown. There was no consideration, no pause to distinguish between the living and the dead, no attempt to assess whether they posed a threat or were merely caught in the crossfire. For Jade, none of it mattered. All that seemed to drive her was the rush, the sheer thrill of the moment.


    The villains abandoned their blasters in favor of meta abilities, their powers filling the air with deafening bangs as metal twisted, sparks flew, and the ten floor half finished structure around us groaned under the strain.


    Jade dropped to a crouch, her grip tightening on my wrist. “You good, or should I carry you?” she quipped, her tone light despite the deadly seriousness of the situation.


    I shot her a look. “Don’t push it.”


    She laughed, her eyes gleaming with exhilaration as she turned back to the fight. But I couldn’t focus. Something was wrong—more wrong than just the gunfire and the chaos. I needed to confirm something, and there was only one way to do it.


    My primary power, the meta side of my meta nature, could only activate under specific conditions:


    When a metahuman was dying.


    If I was in physical contact with the person.


    Or, the other person had overdrawn their meta nature.


    Only then was their connection to their meta side strong enough to form a stable link.


    Suddenly, I found my consciousness pulled from the tangible world and thrust into the void. This wasn’t a physical space—no, from what I could discern, it was the complete negation of space itself, an absence of everything: no sound, no air, no light, not even the whisper of thought.


    The darkness wasn’t merely the absence of light—it was an oppressive force, pressing in from all directions, smothering every sense and instinct. I had no form here, no body to ground me. What existed in this void was something deeper: my subconscious, the core of my being, laid bare in its raw, unfiltered essence. This place was a balancing force, and yet, it felt impossibly, horribly out of balance.


    In the darkness so profound that even life itself feared to tread, faint lines began to emerge, forming what seemed like fractals. At first, they were no more than whispers of form, shimmering against the infinite blackness. Slowly, they coalesced, forming a pattern so intricate, so mesmerizing, that it defied comprehension.


    The fractals pulsed with a rhythm that wasn’t rhythmic at all—an alien cadence of contraction and expansion, simultaneously beautiful and deeply unsettling. They writhed like living things, tracing shapes and contours that seemed to shimmer on the edge of recognition.


    But something about this pattern was wrong. It was incomplete, riddled with gaps and voids where geometric lines should have been. Segments of its convoluted shapes twisted inward upon themselves, devouring their own geometry. In my experience, such patterns were hypometric—a terrible concept, the visual equivalent of an infinite collapse. They dragged the mind into spirals too deep for comprehension, swallowing rational thought like a black hole consumes light.


    As I stared into the writhing geometry, a terrible awareness gripped me and I caught a glimpse of myself—or more accurately, an infinity of myself. They stretched endlessly into the void, each iteration a fragment of my being, refracted like light through a shattered prism.


    I had been divided, fractured into countless possibilities. It was as if I were peering into infinity itself, each iteration of me taking a different route, making different choices, experiencing different events. Each figure moved slightly out of sync, diverging in ways both subtle and profound. Some followed paths I recognized, others moved slightly out of sync, their motions asynchronous and jarring. Watching them was like gazing into a kaleidoscope of my own existence, each turn of the void revealing new patterns, new possibilities, new versions of me.


    The endless branching, the infinite web of actions and consequences.


    The enormity of it all was dizzying, an unfathomable sprawl of existence that seemed to crush the boundaries of my understanding.


    Then, from the darkness, tentacles began to emerge. They slithered into existence, phantasmal yet undeniably real, their forms both fluid and solid. They writhed with a predatory grace, reaching toward the pattern as if drawn by its incompleteness, its imperfections.


    But these weren’t tentacles of some lurking void-dweller; Stragenly, I was their source.


    Perhaps it was my greed—I could feel their desires as if they were my own.


    Beyond the Veil, Fishing for Dead Stars...


    The phrase echoed in my mind, painfully literal.


    At that moment, I truly was fishing—but it certainly wasn’t for fish.


    Whatever I was trying to hook from the void was far removed from anything remotely edible or cookable.


    It defied comprehension, its nature elusive and terrifyingly vast, as if the concept of "existence" itself had been stretched to a breaking point.


    Worse still, I had absolutely no plan for what to do with it once caught. Would it taste good? Should I eat it raw, or cook it over a fire? Could it even be cooked? What kind of seasoning would you even use for something fished out of the void? Salt seemed... insufficient.


    The memory surfaced as I stared at the incomplete pattern. Why did I time travel? My thoughts circled back to the first time I’d encountered one of these patterns. It had been an accident, a brief touch that linked me to something incomprehensible. That single moment had been enough to hurl me spiraling through time, breaking my understanding of existence. I couldn’t afford to repeat that mistake, not without understanding the rules of this dangerous game.


    The tentacles, writhing extensions of my own will, hesitated, hovering just shy of the pattern’s jagged edges. They quivered, eager to entwine with it, to fill the gaping voids in its structure.


    But I hesitated.


    The risk was far too high.


    While I might gain something extraordinary—abilities like Jade’s probability manipulation, perhaps—the rules were absolute. For me to take that power, Jade would have to die.


    I refused to pay that price.


    No. Better to find another guinea pig for such experiments, someone expendable. The void trembled as if displeased by my restraint, but the tentacles obeyed, receding into the blackness like shadows retreating before the dawn. The incomplete pattern remained untouched, its fractured beauty an unsolved. And then, as if the void had been holding its breath, my consciousness snapped back to reality.


    Not even a second had passed in the physical world. Time in the void held no meaning


    Jade’s silver eyes reflected faint rainbow colors as she moved, a strange contrast to the chaos around us. Ahead, a man swung his arm, releasing a glowing thread that sliced clean through everything in its path. Rubble cut cleaned as it touched, and even a falling metal beam from the fourth story was severed without slowing its momentum. The ability was destructive, but I could see its limitations. It was a straight-line attack, unable to change direction mid-flight, and there was a clear delay before he could use it again. Powerful, yes, but constrained by its own nature.


    We dove to the side just as the thread shot past. While normal blaster shots couldn’t touch us—the staggering changes around Jade bent them harmlessly away—meta abilities were a different story. As Jade had said, those followed no rules except their own, and each had a way of countering others.


    I analyzed our opponents, trying to categorize their abilities. The probability of them being Hive users was high, but I couldn''t discount them being Unique rejects - after all, sixty percent of unique meta natures were useless. Unlike Hive, Unique abilities didn''t allow for growth in strength.


    There was a figure moving through the dust and chaos. One, a man with unnaturally long fingers, raised his hands, his touch splitting the air itself into jagged shards. He swiped downward, and a rift tore open in front of him, the space between shimmering as though caught between two mirrors. The jagged tear rippled outward, its edges razor-sharp, slicing through rubble and walls indiscriminately.


    “Move!” I shouted, grabbing Jade’s arm to pull her back just as the rift sliced through the spot where we’d been standing. The sound it made—a high-pitched whine—lingered in my ears even as we ducked for cover.


    Through the Likeness, I spotted another man crouching behind a pillar. He was aiming for Jade, the barrel of his weapon glowing faintly as it charged. I didn’t hesitate. My own blaster snapped up, and the shot hit him before he could fire. He fell with a heavy thud, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.


    I felt nothing at his death. This wasn’t about deciding who deserved to live or die, or weighing the morality of their actions. In my perception, their luck had already turned dark—an inky black dragon circling them, its greedy eyes fixed, saliva dripping from its maw as it waited for the inevitable.


    Luck didn’t correlate with death, not directly. But the absence of luck? That was a different story. It wasn’t cause and effect—it was more like a shadow trailing its source.


    Life itself was an aspect of luck - as long as someone drew breath, luck existed. Only in death did it vanish entirely, leaving behind a hollow stillness that even my perception couldn’t penetrate.


    Another opponent, tall and wiry, stepped forward, his footsteps unnervingly silent. His shadow stretched impossibly long, twisting and snaking toward us like a living thing. It moved independently (but very short distance), darting between obstacles and lashing out like a whip. The shadow struck with the force of a hammer, shattering debris and leaving dark scorch marks where it landed.


    “Watch the shadow!” I warned, firing at the man himself. He dodged, his shadow snapping back to shield him, absorbing the bolt entirely.


    Jade didn’t hesitate. She fired twice in rapid succession, her chaos bending the shots’ trajectories in ways that seemed impossible. One struck his shoulder, spinning him around, while the second caught his leg, sending him to the ground. His shadow recoiled and writhed before fading entirely.


    Through Likeness, I spotted the thread-wielder once more. He launched another strike, the glowing filament slicing through debris with surgical precision.


    I ducked, narrowly avoiding it, and returned fire. My shot struck the ground at his feet, sending up a cloud of dust that made him stumble.


    Jade didn’t miss the opportunity, her blaster taking him down with a shot that left his thread dissolving into the air.


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    I felt, these people were truly a disgrace to the name of villains. If there were a handbook on how to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies, they must have skipped every chapter and gone straight to "How to Be Fodder."


    However, then I noticed something then that left me even more speechless, Jade''s eyes were actually closed while dashing around. She fired blindly as she relied on her meta nature to twist the odds in her favor.


    Clearly, her chaos was more effective than my precision, at least in this situation. Unlike Jade, who was firing aimlessly, relying on her ability to hit other villains before their power could reach her, I was much more strained. After all, she had already sent four other small fries to heaven with her eyes closed, I couldn’t compare to her in a dozen cycles.


    The air inside grew thick with falling rubble and dust.


    Jade''s meta nature was bleeding into every corner of the building. Through my perception, I could see luck patterns shattering and reforming with each of her shots, while the black dragon of fate grew larger, hungrier.


    Only two opponents remained standing now, but their fate was similarly already written in my perception. Their luck was turning dark at an alarming rate, the patterns blackening like paper catching fire. Above their heads, coffins materialized in my vision - not ordinary ones, but constructs of bone, hanging like macabre mobiles. These were among the darkest omens my vision could show, marking those whose deaths were not just likely, but inevitable.


    The bone coffins swayed in a nonexistent wind, casting shadows in my vision that seemed to reach toward their intended occupants.


    Suddenly, the battle fell quiet. Jade holstered her blaster, glancing at me with a smirk. “Not bad, huh?”


    I didn’t respond immediately, my eyes lingering on the fading coffins.


    “Yeah,” I said finally, “not bad at all.”