These two villains might have been the strongest of their gang—seasoned fighters, hardened survivors—but in front of Jade, they might as well have been kids swinging sticks. The air crackled with possibilities around Jade as she stood there, her silver eyes tracking every potential movement before they even happened. She could change their lives—end their lives—with a blink. They were already dead, even if they hadn''t figured it out yet.


    I felt an odd pang of loss watching her. When the villains had attacked, I''d only had a split second to act, and in that moment, all my experience had meant nothing. Shouldn''t I have been the one with the experience? The one teaching her, showing her the ropes? Instead, standing here watching Jade, I realized I''d brought a dragon into an ant hole. She was tearing through them effortlessly, trampling lives with her eyes half-closed, her devastation almost casual. Reality seemed to bend around her, outcomes shifting like sand in an hourglass.


    She had all the makings of a villain herself—perhaps more villain than those we fought. The way she didn''t even blink while dropping them like broken grass stems, the casual disregard for life more chilling than any deliberate cruelty.


    Her blaster suddenly malfunctioned, overheated and drained. Jade looked at it with immediate agitation, tapping it against her hip like a frustrated child with a broken toy.


    “Of all the times,” she muttered, shaking it again.


    The remaining two villains, sensing their opportunity, prepared to strike. They didn’t even register me as a threat, probably assuming I was just some normal human caught in the crossfire. In a way, they weren’t wrong—I was merely a spectator to this slaughter.


    The first man dashed from his hiding place, his companion right behind him. He was the tall one with unnaturally long fingers that seemed to leave tears in reality as they moved. Each step he took left tiny fractures in the air, like cracks in invisible glass.


    "Your luck''s run out," he snarled and sliced through the air with a flick of his hand. The space itself splintered, a jagged rift tearing through the distance between them and Jade. The edges rippled with a piercing hum, slicing through rubble and walls like wet paper, leaving geometric fragments of broken reality behind.


    The rift expanded outward in a starburst pattern, each edge vibrating with a different pitch as it cut through the air. Debris caught in its path didn''t just fall—it shattered into perfect geometric shapes, each piece splitting along mathematically precise lines as reality itself was dissected.


    "Well, neat trick," Jade said dryly, tossing the now-useless blaster aside. It clattered against the ground, leaving strange echoes that seemed to repeat in multiple timelines at once.


    "You want to explain what that''s supposed to be, or are you just going to stand there wiggling your fingers?"


    "Shut up!" the man spat. He brought both hands forward now, fingers splayed wide.


    The air screamed as he tore open multiple rifts at once, creating a complex geometric pattern of spatial tears. Each rift pulsed with a different frequency, turning the space between them into a deadly maze of dimensional cuts.


    Jade''s response was a masterclass in efficiency of movement, given her sophisticated form. She didn''t just dodge—she flowed through the spaces between the rifts like water finding the path of least resistance. A slight tilt of her head let a shard of broken space whistle past her ear. A quarter-step to the left allowed her to slip between two converging rifts that would have scissored her in half. She turned a necessary duck into a fluid spin, letting three more rifts pass harmlessly overhead while positioning herself closer to her opponent.


    From my vantage point, I watched the defined muscles in her thighs flex and release with each precise movement, power contained in elegant lines. She moved like a seasoned gymnast, her tall yet delicate body defying expectations of grace. The moon boots she wore—massive things that should have been unwieldy—only seemed to accentuate her natural agility.


    The rift-wielder grew more frantic, his fingers moving in increasingly erratic patterns. The tears in space began to overlap and intersect, creating unstable nodes where reality itself seemed uncertain. Fragments of space began to rotate and twist, turning the battlefield into a kaleidoscope of broken dimensions.


    Jade dodged effortlessly, her movements smooth and almost lazy. Where he created complexity, she found simplicity. When the man tried to trap her in a cage of spatial tears, she simply stepped through the one spot where the outcomes aligned for safe passage. Each move was minimal, precise, and seemed to happen just slightly before it needed to.


    "That all you''ve got? Come on, impress me." Her taunt was punctuated by a casual sidestep that let two rifts collide behind her, their intersection sending a shower of spatial fragments into the wall. The concrete where they hit didn''t break—it simply ceased to exist in geometrically perfect chunks.


    "Jade, maybe don''t antagonize the guy who can literally cut space in half," I called out, shaking my head as I watched fragments of reality rain down around her. The fractured reality around us made my skin crawl. I genuinely felt afraid for her for what if she suddenly made a mistake.


    She shot me a quick glance, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Relax. I’ve got this.”


    It didn’t help at all; in fact, her smile only made me feel more uneasy.


    The rift-wielder screamed in frustration and committed to a desperate all-in attack. "You’re dead, you hear me? You crazy bitch! Dead!” he screamed.


    He brought his hands together, fingers interlacing, then ripped them apart. The action tore a massive X-shaped rift in space that expanded outward from his position. The edges of these rifts were different—darker, more unstable, crackling with the energy of poorly controlled power.


    Jade tilted her head, unimpressed. “You guys really need new material.”


    She dropped into a low crouch as the first rift passed overhead, rolled forward under the second, then had to launch herself into a backward handspring to avoid the third. The fourth rift came in at an angle that should have been impossible to dodge.


    Should have been.


    Instead of trying to avoid it, Jade stepped directly toward it. For a fraction of a second, I saw multiple versions of her overlapping in broken space fragments—each one taking a slightly different path. Then they all collapsed into a single reality as she threaded herself through a gap in space that I would have sworn didn''t exist a moment before.


    But then, defying all logic, Jade’s "broken" blaster suddenly roared back to life, firing off a charged bolt from where it had landed on the ground. The blast tore through the man chest with surgical precision, dropping him mid-stride and leaving him gasping his last breaths on the floor. The web of rifts he''d created collapsed with him, reality snapping back into place with a sound like breaking glass. Each tear sealed itself shut, leaving geometric scars in the air that slowly faded like frost melting.


    The second man froze, his bravado shattered. "H-how did—?" His eyes darted between Jade and the blaster, trying to process what he''d just witnessed.


    I shook my head sadly as Jade picked up the dropped blaster, brushing off the dust like she was tending to a prized possession. “Huh, you were just playing dead?” she muttered, speaking to it as though it could answer. She gave it an approving pat. “Good hustle. But maybe don’t flake out next time, yeah?”


    Meanwhile, the second man, too panicked to process how a single woman had wiped out his entire group in what felt like seconds, screamed. His desperation triggered and his meta nature kicked in as his body turned intangible, darting through a nearby wall like a ghost trying to escape its own haunting.


    Jade sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. The silver in her eyes pulsed with annoyance. "They always run," she muttered before breaking into a sprint after him.


    "Mister Villain," she called out after him, her voice dripping with exaggerated politeness, "this is my first time playing hero. Could you not make it a terrible experience for me? That''d be great."


    "Though I have to admit," she added with a laugh that echoed strangely through the corridors, "the chase is kind of fun!"


    “Leave me alone!” the man yelled back, his voice reverberating as he passed through a concrete pillar, his panic palpable. “I don’t want anything to do with you!”


    "Oh come on," Jade called out, her voice lilting with amusement. "You can''t phase through everything forever. Let''s make this interesting!"


    "I''ll even give you a head start—not that it''ll help!"


    Jade, undeterred, sprinted after him as if she forgot his meta nature literally allowed his to phase through the matter.


    She didn''t slow down—didn''t even hesitate—before suddenly, but not-unexpectedly slamming face-first into the same pillar. I winced at the sound, closing my eyes.


    The collision was loud, awkward, and deeply unheroic.


    She stumbled back, clutching her nose as her eyes watered. "Ouch! My face!"


    A thin trickle of blood began to drip down her face. She glared at the offending pillar like it had personally wronged her. “That,” she muttered darkly, “was incredibly rude.”


    Her tone sharpened as she pointed at the wall like a stern teacher disciplining an unruly student. “And now I’ve broken my nose because of you,” she huffed, her voice filled with indignant frustration. “You should really take responsibility for this!”


    But then her mood suddenly did one eighty.


    "You know what?" she called out, her voice carrying an almost childlike excitement despite the blood.


    "This is actually making things more entertaining. Hide and seek with a twist!" She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, "Though I should warn you—I always win at games!"


    With renewed determination, Jade set off again, her silver eyes glowing faintly as she tracked his movement through the walls. The man’s ability to phase might have let him slip through solid matter, but Jade’s meta nature wasn’t anything I could scoff about, she was rapidly altering the probabilities around him.


    "Marco!" she sang out, her voice echoing unnaturally through the building. "Come on, you''re supposed to say ''Polo''! Don''t you know how to play?"


    It wasn''t immediate—she wasn''t fast enough to stop the villain outright—but space itself seemed to hiccup, working against him. Every time he phased through a wall expecting to emerge on the other side, something went wrong. He seemed to stuck in a maze of impossible outcomes. One time, he phased through a doorway only to reappear two feet to the left, smashing into a rusted pipe.


    "Ooh, that looked like it hurt!" Jade called out cheerfully. "Want to try that again? Maybe aim a little more to the right this time?"


    Another time, he shot through a floor and somehow ended up back where he''d started, reality folding in on itself like origami.


    "Surprise!" Jade exclaimed with genuine delight. "Bet you didn''t see that coming. Neither did physics, apparently!"


    "Stop doing that!" the villain cried, his voice cracking with frustration. His form flickered between solid and intangible.


    He tried phasing again, only to emerge halfway through a broken staircase, his momentum sending him tumbling to the ground. "I''m not even a bad guy! Let me go!"


    "Not a bad guy?" Jade clicked her tongue, casually stepping over the rubble he''d knocked loose in his frantic escape.


    "You know what''s funny about that? Bad guys never think they''re bad guys. It''s like a universal constant or something."


    She grinned, blood still trickling from her nose. "Almost as constant as me!"


    "They made me join them!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet.


    His voice was desperate, his eyes darting around for any escape route that didn''t involve phasing through a wall. "I didn''t have a choice!"


    "Didn''t have a choice?" Jade laughed, "There''s always a choice. I''m looking at about..."


    She tilted her head, silver eyes scanning invisible scenes, "...twenty thousand and seventy three different choices you could make right now."


    "Want to know how many of them end well for you?" She grinned. "Here''s a hint: it''s a really small number."


    She stopped a few feet away from him, her arms crossing over her chest. "I don''t care about your reasons," she said flatly. Then her face brightened with mock enthusiasm. "But hey, want to see something cool? Watch what happens when I do this!"


    She snapped her fingers. Meanwhile, the man''s next attempt to phase was like trying to swim through molasses.


    “I promise I won’t commit any more crimes!” the villain yelled again, ignoring her entirely as he dove through another wall.


    His intangible form shimmered for a moment before vanishing into the cold concrete.


    "Promises, promises," Jade sang out, skipping—actually skipping—after him. "You know what''s funny about promises? They''re just another form of probability. And probability?" She gestured at the air around her, "That''s kind of my thing!"


    I watched him closely, trying to make sense of his movements. Something about the way he phased caught my attention—a flicker of instability, the briefest pause where his form solidified before he became intangible again. A critical flaw, clear as day: his ability wasn’t seamless. His intangibility only lasted for seconds before he had to return to solid form. It wasn’t much, but it was a vulnerability.


    "Oh, did you know your power has a rhythm?" Jade also called out, her voice echoing through the walls.


    "Solid, ghost, solid, ghost—it''s like a dance! Want me to count it out for you? One-two-three, one-two-three!" Each number she called seemed to make reality hiccup around him.


    The man''s next phase was rushed, sloppy. He emerged partially through a wall, had to solidify to catch his breath, then immediately tried to phase again. But Jade had been counting—literally counting—on this.


    "See? Right on beat!" she exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm. "Though your timing''s a little off. Let me help you with that!" She made a conductor''s gesture with her hand, and suddenly the man''s next phase went wrong, leaving him materializing halfway up a wall instead of through it. However, he strangely didn''t die. He should have under normal conditions.


    However, something unexpected happened just than. The villain re-emerged from the wall—only this time, he was right beside me. His face twisted into an expression of wild relief as he realized where he’d landed.


    “Shit—” was all I managed before he lunged.


    Jade''s blaster fired in the same instant, the bolt slicing harmlessly through his phased body like lightning through fog. In that moment, I saw something I''d not seen so far on her face: fear.


    The villain didn’t flinch as his hand shot forward, phasing through my chest. My breath hitched, my lungs locking up as a cold, bone-deep pressure gripped me. His intangible fingers wrapped tightly around my heart, and for a horrifying moment, I couldn’t tell if it was beating anymore.


    His sneer grew wider, his face inches from mine. "Hahaha, now this is interesting," he said, his voice dripping with venom.


    He turned his head toward Jade, savoring every word. "So what''s it going to be, bitch? Should I crush his heart first, or let you take the shot and finish us both?"


    Jade froze mid-step, her blaster lowering slightly. Her silver eyes locked on the spot where his arm disappeared into my chest. There was something unnervingly still about her—no breath, no movement, just an intense, razor-sharp focus.


    “Don’t you dare move,” he snarled at her, his grip tightening just enough to make me gasp.


    The sensation sent stars shooting across my vision. "One wrong move, and I''ll rip it right out. Want to see what a heart looks like when it phases back into solid matter? I hear it''s quite spectacular."


    Then, the casual detachment she’d carried earlier was gone, replaced by something fragile. For the first time, I saw her not as the unstoppable force she had been moments ago but as someone shaken.


    “Don’t do something stupid,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, a thread of desperation weaving through her words. “We can talk.”


    The villain chuckled, emboldened by her change in tone. "Talk? You were just blasting your way through my crew like they were nothing, playing with reality like it was your personal toy. Now you want to talk?" His hand flexed again, and my knees buckled slightly as the icy grip on my heart made me light-headed.


    The edges of my vision began to blur, "What changed? Oh wait—I know. It''s him, isn''t it? Your little lover. He''s your weakness."


    “I was wrong,” Jade said, stepping closer. Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept her composure, her eyes locked on his. “Let him go, and we’ll walk away. All of us.”


    “Look how the tables have turned,” The villain grinned wider, his teeth gleaming like a predator’s. "What''s there to talk about? Didn''t you want to kill me just now? You seemed pretty eager to get it over with. All those clever tricks, all that power—and here you are, begging. Love makes fools of us all, doesn''t it?"This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Jade’s lips trembled as she answered. “I made a mistake,” she admitted.


    Her hands, still raised, were shaking visibly now. “But if you hurt him, you’ll never leave this room alive.”


    “Oh, but why would I care?” the villain sneered. His expression twisted into something darker, something meaner. “I’m dying anyway. Shouldn’t I take him with me? That way, I’m not alone on the journey.”


    I felt strangely touched, despite the precarious situation. Jade silver eyes now rimmed with red and her trembling hands proved I wasn''t alone in whatever this was growing between us.


    From between the villain’s fingers, still phased around my heart, I managed to lift one trembling hand and wag my finger at Jade. The motion was weak, almost comical, but I hoped she’d understand: Don’t worry.


    Her eyes darted to me, widening slightly, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something. But she didn’t. Instead, she turned her focus back to the villain, her hands lowering slightly, the trembling stopping as her entire demeanor changed.


    “I’m only going to ask you one more time,” she said, her voice steady now, the emotion still there but controlled. “Let him go.”


    “And if I don’t?” the villain taunted, his sneer widening.


    Jade tilted her head, her gaze narrowed. “Then I’ll make sure you regret it.”


    I sighed—death itself didn’t concern me much. I’d faced it, danced with it, even bargained with it in the past.


    But leaving Jade behind now? That was something I couldn’t accept. Too much was left undone. There were hugs not given, ridiculous jokes not shared, questions still unasked. I’d promised her I’d teach her to cook one day. Hell, we hadn’t even kissed yet. A lump formed in my throat at the thought, and for the first time in years, a spark of genuine anger flared deep within me.


    I wasn’t angry for myself—I was angry for her.


    The villain’s smug expression twisted as he tightened his grip, his confidence unshaken by Jade’s trembling desperation. But he didn’t notice what I did. Above him, hanging in the air like a ghost executioner, was his fate. A coffin, dark and ominous, hovered over his head. It wasn’t just a metaphor or a vision—it was the inevitable conclusion of his existence, etched into the very fabric of reality. No matter what he did, no matter how tightly he clung to my life or his own, that coffin grew more defined, its edges sharpening like a judgment already passed. He didn’t see it, but I did.


    And in that moment, I made my decision.


    I closed my eyes, letting go of the world around me and slipping into that familiar, alien space within myself. In two lifetimes, I''d never willingly used my primary meta nature, too afraid of the consequences and too little knowledge of the unknown. But fate, it seemed, had finally presented the perfect moment. But now? Now, it felt like fate had finally drawn the line, daring me to step over it.


    Fishing Time…


    I thought wryly, though my heart was anything but light.


    The void greeted me instantly, a vast and endless darkness that swallowed all light, all sound, all sense of place. It wasn’t an absence—it was a presence, heavy and oppressive, stretching in every direction. And yet, within that oppressive void, I saw it.


    The pattern.


    It flickered into existence, delicate and beautiful, an intricate weave of light and form that morphed like something alive. It reminded me of Jade’s pattern, yet it was undeniably distinct. Its shape and size felt alien, fragmented. Or perhaps my limited and insignificant consciousness could only perceive it in this fragmented, incomplete way.


    It twinkled like a dying star, winking in and out of existence, its ephemeral nature hinting at its true properties. The longer I looked at it, the more horrifying it seemed. A creeping sensation of madness whispered at the edges of my thoughts, a warning that if I stared too long, I might unravel—not just my mind, but my very essence, erasing me from existence entirely.


    I forced myself to look away from the flickering pattern, shaken yet unable to escape the pull it had on me.


    My instincts screamed to stop, to abandon whatever I’d just unleashed, but the void demanded action.


    Every second I lingered, my sense of self seemed to unravel further, slipping away into the endless, suffocating dark.


    Following my philosophy of avoiding unnecessary risks in an already dangerous situation, I cautiously extended the tentacles.


    The darkness around me pulsed faintly, as though alive, a sentient ocean of nothingness. The tentacles moved with a deliberate, eerie precision, reacting to my intent without direct command. The sensation was alien yet familiar, like moving my own hands, except now there were countless appendages obeying my intent. Their multiplicity was dizzying, my mind struggling to reconcile the sensation of so many limbs stretching into the void.


    Unlike Jade’s pattern, this pattern pulsed with a volatile energy—vibrating with fear or aggression, or perhaps both. Its chaotic presence felt hostile, and I could feel myself being rapidly erased from the infinity nothigness, my sense of self slipping away. It was as if the void itself sought to consume me.


    Then, something unexpected and terrifying happened. The tentacles—extensions of the me and void—stirred without my will.


    They twisted and coiled, reshaping themselves into a gaping red maw in the darkness. The mouth opened wide, impossibly vast, its edges glistening like raw, bloody wounds. I barely had time to comprehend what was happening before it snapped shut around the flickering pattern, swallowing it whole.


    The pattern disappeared completely, as if it had never existed.


    Reality snapped back into place with a jarring finality, and I staggered, gasping for air. My body felt wrong, as though it had briefly ceased to exist.


    The villain’s hand, which had been phased into my chest, fell away limply.


    For a brief moment, I realized why—it hadn’t withdrawn because he’d chosen to release me. My body had turned intangible, allowing his phased hand to pass through. I clutched at my chest, the sensation of constriction fading as my physical body fully solidified again. The sight of the villain, now nothing more than an empty shell, filled me with an unsettling mix of relief and unease.


    Something far more terrifying than either of us had intervened—and it wasn’t done through my conscious will. I had no idea.


    Beyond the Veil, Fishing for the Dead Stars. So this is what fishing meant? Dangerous wasn’t the word. It was madness.


    As the villain''s body crumpled to the floor, I was suddenly knocked back by a force—Jade, throwing herself at me with all the strength her body could muster. Her arms wrapped tightly around me, trembling as she buried her face in my chest, crying louder and harder than I’d ever heard her.


    She was a little pandora box always giving more surprises.


    She clung to me like she was afraid I’d disappear, her sobs wracking her entire body. Tears and snot streaked her face as she finally looked up, cupping my cheeks in her trembling hands. Her silver eyes, now red and swollen, locked onto mine with an intensity that rooted me in place. Her forehead gently pressed against mine, her breath uneven and shaky.


    “You’re so stupid,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “So, so stupid. I thought you were going to die and leave me alone here.”


    I tried to speak, to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat. My heart was pounding too fast, a chaotic mix of exhaustion from the meta nature use and the overwhelming proximity of her. The warmth of her touch, the vulnerability in her gaze—it all felt too much, yet not enough. This wasn’t the calm Jade or crazy Jade fighting a few moments ago; this was unfiltered emotion spilling out like water from a shattered dam. This was just Jade terrified of losing something she held dear.


    And somehow, that thing was me.


    The realization struck me harder than anything else that had happened. My pulse quickened, a warmth spreading through me despite everything. Was this what people meant when they talked about love? The thought lingered, filling me with a confusing mix of emotions that left me feeling dizzy.


    It felt good—almost intoxicating—to know I meant something to someone.


    "See? I''m fine," I murmured, pulling her into a close embrace.


    My fingers gently wiped away the tears streaking her cheeks. She didn’t let go immediately, her grip tight as if she needed the reassurance of my solid presence. "But we need to leave before the real heroes patrolling the area or City Protector show up. All this commotion will catch their attention. Let’s go."


    She sniffled, nodding reluctantly. Her hand stayed in mine as we slipped away from the destruction. We had been at the scene for less than five minutes, but it was enough to turn the area into a war zone. A blind person could have noticed the half-demolished building and the scattered dead bodies.


    Without another word, we made our exit swiftly, the chaos lingered behind us.


    <hr>


    Later, at Jade''s home, we sat cross-legged on the floor facing each other. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic from the open medical kit lying between my knees. In the warm glow of the table lamp, I leaned closer, carefully examining her nose. Her short hair was a little wild, sticking up in tufts from all the chaos she had caused, and her eyes were puffy from crying.


    Something about her in this moment made her look oddly adorable.


    "Does it hurt?" I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.


    "A little," she replied with a faint nod.


    "It doesn''t look broken," I said, gently releasing her face but still scanning her for any other injuries. I soaked a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol. "Let me clean this up."


    I dabbed at the dried blood on her nose carefully. She flinched but didn''t pull away, her silver eyes staring past me, unfocused. "It should heal fast," she said casually.


    My hands hovered uncertainly for a moment, my eyes catching hers. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"


    She nodded softly, the movement hesitant, and then pointed to her right ankle. "It hurts here," she murmured, her voice tinged with both pain and embarrassment.


    I crouched down, carefully sliding down the knee socks she wore. The fabric peeled away to reveal her ankle, swollen and angry red. "Yeah, that doesn''t look great," I muttered under my breath. For a moment, I couldn''t help but think about the absurdity of it all. "You''d think with all the money we shell out for functional moon boots, they''d at least make them comfortable."


    She let out a small laugh, even as her wince betrayed the pain. "Guess they didn''t have ''soft landing'' in the budget."


    "Let me check the range of motion," I said softly, cradling her heel in my palm. Her skin was warm to the touch, almost feverish.


    She suddenly tensed, trying to pull her foot back slightly. "Wait, maybe we should... I mean, I should wash them first. I''ve been running around and jumping all day in those tight boots," she said, her cheeks flushing pink. "They''re probably not very... pleasant right now."


    I rolled my eyes at her protest, "Tell me if anything feels particularly—"


    She gasped, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Her fingers dug into the carpet beneath her.


    I looked up immediately. "It hurts?"


    "Just a bit," she tried to sound casual, but the tension in her jaw gave her away. A drop of sweat rolled down her temple. "I''ve had worse from training—"


    "You don''t have to pretend with me," I interrupted gently. "Here, let me get the first aid kit properly set up." I reached for the supplies, laying them out methodically. "We should ice it soon, but first I want to clean these abrasions. The boot really did a number on your skin."


    She watched me work with unusual quietness. "You''ve done this before," she observed.


    I nodded. “A few times. You don’t have to be a doctor to know how to handle the basics. When you’re around people, you learn how to take care of them.”


    Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled slowly. "I''m not used to needing care," she admitted softly. "Usually I just... handle things myself."


    "Good," I said, soaking a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol. "Let me clean up these scrapes." I noticed several small abrasions where the boot had rubbed against her skin. "This might sting a bit."


    She hissed as the antiseptic made contact. "A bit? That''s an understatement."


    "..."


    "..."


    "..."


    She stayed silent, watching as I wrapped her ankle with steady, measured movements. The bandage added stability, and I had already used a meta-type spray from the kit earlier. Her foot should be healed prefect by the tomorrow morning.


    “It’ll feel tight,” I said as I secured the end of the bandage. “That’s normal. Just let me know if it gets worse or feels numb.”


    She tested the tension, moving her little toes slightly. “It’s fine,” she said softly, her tone even but distant..


    "What happens to those villain bodies?" She suddenly asked.


    Her question caught me off guard. I glanced at her, but her face betrayed nothing. She wasn’t looking at me—her eyes were fixed on the far wall.


    "The City Protectors will handle it," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "They’ll probably write it off as a gang fight. Nothing to worry about."


    But as I said it, I realized I might have misread her concern. She hadn''t shown any reaction after killing those villains, hadn''t expressed any remorse or shock. Even now, her question seemed more practical than emotional. I studied her face carefully as I continued cleaning her injury. Why wasn''t she affected by taking multiple lives? This girl who could cry so hard over almost losing me showed no distress at all about the lives she''d ended.


    The contrast was unsettling: her genuine tears for my safety versus her complete detachment from the deaths she''d caused. What did that say about her?


    I set the kit aside and looked at her again, drawn to her eyes again. They were stunning—silver pools that seemed to hold infinite depths. She caught me staring and quickly averted her gaze, but after a moment, her shoulders stiffened as if she’d made a decision.


    "You know," I said softly, discarding the bloodied cotton ball and reaching for a clean one, "for someone who can decide outcomes outcome, you took quite a risk running face-first into that pillar."


    A ghost of her usual smile flickered across her face. "Maybe I wanted to see what would happen."


    ( ? _ ? )


    "You wanna know what I see through my eyes when I look at the world?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but steady. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, like she was physically restraining herself.


    I blinked, surprised by the question. "Yeah," I said. "I do."


    She sighed, leaning back slightly against the peeling wallpaper, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the carpet''s frayed threads. A police siren wailed in the distance, but she seemed lost in her own world.


    "It''s not what you think," she began, a strand of dark hair falling across her face. "I don''t see the world like you do, not through the eyes of a normal metahuman."


    "It''s not colors or shapes, or even people. It''s... options." Her hand lifted, fingers spreading in the dim light as if trying to catch something invisible. "Everything I see is a set of paths, choices, all branching out and twisting together. When I focus on something, it''s like I can tug at the strings and pull whatever outcome I want into reality. Like a stop-motion film where I can choose any frame I want. Sometimes the scenes glow silver, sometimes they''re dark as pitch—depending on the types of outcomes, I think. The easier outcomes shine brighter."


    I frowned slightly, trying to wrap my head around her words. "Like… you see possibilities of what could happen instead of the present?"


    She nodded. "Exactly. Every person, every object—they''re like grains of sand splitting infinitely, pictures dividing continuously. Sometimes the branches are so thick I can barely see through them, especially in crowds. Each person trailing thousands of possible futures behind them like comet tails. It''s all just potential. I don''t see people the way you do. I see... outcomes. What they can be, what they might be."


    "It''s like I''m in control." Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap


    Her voice softened, and she looked down, shoulders hunching slightly. "That''s why it''s hard to connect with anything when you''re always seeing the world in stop-motion instead of the whole picture. Everything feels... temporary. Changeable. Like nothing is real until I decide it is."


    I stayed quiet, letting her continue, but reached out and placed my hand near hers—not touching, but close enough to feel the strange static.


    She glanced up at me, her silver eyes meeting mine again. "That''s why I''m not like you. Killing those guys back there? It''s not the same for me. They were just… bad outcomes. Threats to pull out of the equation. It doesn''t feel like ending a life—it feels like cleaning up a mess. Like erasing a wrong answer."


    Her words sent a chill through me. I studied her face, looking for any sign of regret or doubt, but there was none. Yet, as calm as she sounded, there was something else—an undertone of vulnerability, like she was daring me to judge her.


    Then she looked at me, her silver eyes meeting mine, and her voice became almost a whisper. The confidence that usually radiated from her seemed to dim. "But when you''re in those pictures, the sand doesn''t split anymore. The picture doesn''t move." Her voice caught slightly. "You got hurt. I... I don''t want to see you hurt."


    I studied her face, searching for a trace of her usual bravado, but there was none.


    "Is that why you were so scared back there?" I asked softly. "Because I’m not just… an outcome in your motion film you could pull?"


    She froze, her eyes widening slightly. The question seemed to strip away her last defenses. For a moment, I thought she might deny it, retreat behind her usual walls, but then she let out a shaky breath. "You''re not," she admitted, the words seeming to cost her something. "I can''t see your motion the way I see everything else. You''re... different. And it terrifies me."


    "It wasn’t your mistake," I said carefully, my heart beating faster. I wasn’t sure if she was feeling guilt or just uncertainty, but I needed her to hear this. "And maybe it’s not a bad thing, the pictures stopping when it’s me."


    She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I... I don’t know," she said finally, her voice uncertain.


    I nodded, deciding not to push further. "Okay, then let’s do something else," I offered, trying to lighten the mood.


    There were truths that needed time to surface, like grains of sand settling naturally into patterns. No sense rushing it.


    Jade tilted her head slightly, "I want to eat something sweet," she said suddenly, her tone almost childlike.


    Her abrupt shift made me pause, one eyebrow raising in surprise. Then I smiled. "Already taking advantage, huh?"


    She grinned faintly, the first real smile I’d seen since the fight. "So what? You owe me."


    I shook my head, "Fine. What do you want?"


    She pondered, her head drifting upward in thought. "Chocolate pudding," she said decisively.


    "Chocolate pudding it is," I said, standing up and stretching.


    My muscles ached, but the thought of a few days free of chaos, free of running through the streets playing hero, was enough to make the tension in my body ease. If making pudding kept her happy and distracted, I was more than willing to put in the effort.


    <hr>


    A dim blue light flickered on the ceiling, casting shifting shadows that danced like restless ghosts. Loud music blared from the nearby desk, filling the room with noise that couldn’t quite drown out my thoughts. The bass vibrated in my chest, but it didn’t shake the memory that clung to me like a cold, damp fog.


    I waved my hand slowly through the air, testing it. At first, nothing seemed out of place. But when I reached for the edge of the desk, my fingers slipped through it like smoke dissipating in the wind. I pulled my hand back, staring at it as if it belonged to someone else.


    This wasn’t normal—not for me.


    The sensation wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, though. It mirrored the villain’s power, the one I’d consumed when the void swallowed him whole. But this wasn’t like his short phase jumping. No, this was something different. Controlled. Precise. It wasn’t just an echo—it was a reminder of what I’d taken when I had swallowed the man''s soul. Or what It’d allowed to take me.


    The thought made my stomach churn.


    Am I on the right path?


    The memory flashed vivid and unwelcome: the eerie mouth forming in the absolute darkness of the void, snapping shut with terrifying finality. The sensation of nearly being erased from existence overwhelmed me again, making my stomach churn. Now, returned in the relative safety of my home, I had to finally confront what had happened.


    I should consider myself lucky.


    Lucky to be alive after encountering something that defied my little comprehension, patterns so alien they threatened my sanity just by existing.


    A grim smile tugged at my lips, bitter and humorless. I’d been playing fisherman in waters far deeper than I’d realized, casting my line into an abyss that had no bottom. What if next time, instead of catching something, I became the catch? What if some vast shark of the void—something far worse than what I’d already faced—decided I was worth swallowing whole?


    The blue light above me flickered again, casting wavering shadows that stretched and twisted along the walls. They reminded me too much of those void-born tentacles, writhing and alive with unnatural purpose. Even now, my own power felt alien, as though something new had taken root in it, reshaping it into something I barely recognized.


    Was it still mine? Or had I let something else inside?


    I clenched my fists, trying to steady my nerves, but the questions wouldn’t stop. How many more times could I fish in those dark waters before something decided to fish for me?


    A risk taken for a reward received.


    But was it worth it?


    I forced myself to breathe deeply, pulling my thoughts back to the present. My memories swirled like a storm as I tried to piece together what I knew, searching for answers in the fragments of my past. Were there others like me? People in past cycles who had wielded the power to take abilities from others? Yes—there had been a few. Rare individuals whose meta natures allowed them to absorb, mimic, or steal powers entirely.


    Perhaps they had answers. Perhaps they’d felt the same disorientation, the same creeping unease that I did now. But finding them would be the first challenge.


    The problem with remembering past cycles was that time didn’t move the same way.


    Many of the people I needed to find might not even have been born yet in this cycle.


    Others could already be dead, their stories lost to the currents of time.


    Sometimes, time, though limited, felt infinitely stretched.