Though I had just survived a massive villain attack, that didn’t mean I was off the hook for long. As soon as I was discharged, my regular responsibilities returned—chief among them, my weekly community service assignment from Beyonder’s Academy. This wasn’t the kind of service that felt particularly fulfilling, either. I was tasked with supervising teenagers who had yet to grasp the seriousness of their abilities. These weren’t just any kids, though—they were the children of influential families, kids who had grown up with everything handed to them. For them, powers weren’t a responsibility; they were a game.


    Worse still, these teens weren’t even enrolled in Beyonder’s Academy yet. Their parents had paid exorbitant fees to get them into preparatory training—a head start to boost their chances of eventual acceptance. It was a system that rewarded wealth over merit, and I was there to ensure their powers didn’t cause any disasters while they played at being heroes.


    And me? I was doing this as part of my academy responsibilities, unpaid and unnoticed, disguised as community service. Babysitting a group of entitled brats no younger than myself, forced to teach them skills their parents should’ve instilled. The irony wasn’t lost on me, and yet, here I was.


    It was Friday, and after classes wrapped up early, I reluctantly hugged Jade goodbye. Her arms clung tightly around me, as though she didn’t want to let go.


    “Good luck,” she murmured, her voice soft. “Call me when you’re free.”


    I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I will.”


    The hardest part wasn’t the goodbye—it was knowing we wouldn’t see each other that evening. As I pulled away, her absence already settled in, lingering like an ache I couldn’t quite shake.


    Meanwhile, I had to pick up the youngsters I was assigned to mentor—or, as I liked to call it, “babysit.”


    Jade, for her part, wasn’t off the hook either; she had her own trio of rich, entitled protégés to manage. Honestly, it was hard to imagine how someone like her—quiet, focused, and not exactly the nurturing type—dealt with those kids. I often joked to myself that maybe she kept them in line by Perhaps beating them everyday like the entire class at the academy until no one was willing to come near her. The thought amused me enough to keep me from grumbling too much about my own predicament.


    I took the train to the North District, heading to pick up my first "student," a bratty seventeen-year-old named Louvel Delacour.


    From what little I’d gleaned about his family, it seemed his parents were often absent—much like Jade’s. That probably explained why Louvel was such a troubled kid. He wouldn’t listen to anyone, and his wealth had only made him more insufferable. I wasn’t a fan of his attitude, but I did the bare minimum required of me. It wasn’t my job to teach him common sense or basic decency, just to guide him through his power training. Still, our dynamic had developed over the past two months, and we’d reached a sort of understanding. Louvel knew I wouldn’t tolerate too much nonsense, and I knew how to keep him engaged without sparking an argument.


    When I arrived at the park where he was playing volleyball, he spotted me standing by the gate. True to form, Louvel ended the game early, fist-bumping his friends before strolling over with an easy smile.


    “Hey, how’s it going?” he greeted, his tone as relaxed as his posture.


    I nodded politely. “Not bad,” I replied. “Looks like you’re a regular MVP around here.”


    He chuckled, running a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. “Eh, not really. I just don’t like losing, so I make sure we don’t.”


    “Modest,” I said, my voice laced with dry humor.


    Louvel grinned, unfazed. “Well, somebody’s got to keep these guys in shape.” He gestured lazily toward the court, where his friends were already starting a new game without him. “You play?”


    “Not really,” I admitted, keeping pace with him as we started walking. “Team sports were never my thing.”


    “Shame,” he said, glancing down at me. “You look like you could use some cardio.”


    I shot him a sidelong look but decided not to rise to the bait. “I think I’ll manage.”


    Louvel was taller than me—easily six-foot-six—and his casual confidence matched his striking looks. Even in a simple tank top and shorts, he carried himself like he owned the place. It was hard to ignore how much he fit the image of a quintessential playboy: charm, good looks, and just enough arrogance to make him aggravatingly likable.


    As we walked, his tone shifted, growing slightly more conversational. “So, where to next?”


    “Your place first,” I replied. “We’ll pick up my second assignment after you’re done changing. Unless you’re planning on showing up everywhere in your game gear.”


    He smirked, unfazed. “My place it is, then.”


    His mansion—or what most would call an estate—was just a few blocks away. Once inside, he disappeared for about fifteen minutes to freshen up. When he reappeared, dressed in a tailored shirt and jeans that somehow managed to look both effortless and expensive, he grinned. “Alright. Let''s go.”


    We headed to the nearby mall to pick up Placid.


    Although her name, Placid, meant calm, she was anything but.


    Louvel drove his sport car out from the underground garage and it didn’t take us long to find her. She was near a fancy tea stand, surrounded by a group of friends, gesturing wildly as she spoke. Her voice carried over the noise of the food court, bright and full of energy, punctuated by bursts of laughter from the group around her.


    “There she is,” Louvel said, nodding toward her. “In her natural habitat.”


    Placid spotted us almost immediately, her sharp eyes catching on Louvel first. She waved enthusiastically, practically bouncing off the bench as she called out, “Hey! Over here!”


    “Placid,” I greeted, my tone friendly. “You ready to go?”


    She turned toward me, her face lighting up with excitement. “You kept me waiting!” she exclaimed, ignoring my question entirely. “Oh, wait, hold on—guys, this is the mentor I was telling you about.” She gestured dramatically to me, then to Louvel. “And this is Louvel. He’s, like, alright, I guess.”


    “Charming,” Louvel muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.


    Placid ignored him, turning her attention back to me. “So, what’s the plan? Please tell me it’s not boring. And did you see that store upstairs? They have the cutest shoes—”


    I cut in, giving her a look. “We’re on a schedule. No shopping detours.”


    She pouted but grabbed her bag. “Fine, fine.” Then, turning back to her friends, she waved dramatically. “Catch you later, guys. Try not to miss me too much!”


    The third person in my group, however, had a slightly different story. She was already eighteen and had taken the Beyonder’s entrance test once—but failed. So, I wasn’t sure what her family was getting out of the training, she couldn’t take the exam a second time. Naturally, I wasn’t in the position to ask and didn’t care enough.


    After picking up Louvel and Placid, we arrived at our third destination—a mansion that dwarfed the previous two in grandeur and significance.This wasn’t just any opulent estate; this was the Qi Mansion. Its very name carried weight, a symbol of power and influence that extended beyond just their wealth. The Qi family was one of the most powerful families in the world, and their reputation wasn’t built on mere money or connections. It was their exclusive meta-nature that truly set them apart: ‘The Logos.’


    The Logos was more than just a meta nature, it was a legacy. Each individual in the Qi family had their own unique manifestation of this meta-nature, said to be tied to a defining characteristic of their soul—a "character" they were born with.


    The family had a saying, one that resonated with me despite the complexity of their methods:


    “Every person in the world is born with a character, and it is the essence of their story.”


    The Qi family lived and breathed this mantra, monopolizing the Logos to such an extent that it became a symbol of their identity and influence. Of course, no one could predict with certainty what meta-nature a child would develop, but the Qi family had perfected ways to stack the odds in their favor, they employed methods that straddled the line between inspiration and morally questionable. The first involved paying an exorbitant price to the so-called Lord of Changes—that what he liked to call himself —he could exchange a person’s inherent meta nature with someone else. The second method was equally ambitious: divining the birth of a child with the highest probability of developing The Logos and then offering to "adopt"—or outright purchase—the child from their parents. It was also the most employed method.


    Then there were other, more extreme measures as well. For example, reading a person’s fate to pinpoint their potential meta-nature or even looking decades into the future to confirm the birth of a Logos-compatible individual. But these methods came with steep costs—costs so enormous that even the wealthiest families rarely considered them worthwhile.


    After all, unless the meta-nature in question was truly heaven-defying, no one was willing to pay such a hefty price for a guarantee.


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    Naturally, the Qi family wasn’t alone in monopolizing a specific meta-nature or perfecting methods to cultivate it. Many powerful families and organizations did the same, ensuring rare and potent meta remained tied to their bloodlines or controlled through other means.


    As for The Logos meta-nature, it was a Hive-type meta with extraordinary potential for growth. Users of The Logos were born with at least one character, a core building block of their power.


    Through significant milestones or personal breakthroughs, they could gain additional characters. These characters could then combine to form a phrase, which granted even greater abilities. A phrase could evolve further into a personal Quote, a unique and powerful manifestation of their will. The strongest and most disciplined users could eventually craft a Poem, the pinnacle of The Logos, capable of shaping reality itself.


    The most powerful member of the Qi family, known as The Weave, was rumored to have transcended all known limits of this meta-nature. In my past cycles, I’d heard whispers that she could rival beings like The Crown, Limitless, or even Cheat Engine, individuals considered untouchable by most standards. It was said that The Weave had transformed her characters into a literal essay—a feat so extraordinary it bordered on legend. However, no one knew how many secret hands she had in the background to achieve this feat, or how many fates she was calculating at any given time.


    As for Aria, the person I was here to mentor, I found her character and demeanor pleasant, perhaps shaped by her upbringing in such a large and influential family. She had many siblings, which likely tempered the ego often associated with the privileged. Still, her story was not without its shadows.


    She had once mentioned, almost casually, that she was "bought" by the Qi family when she was just two years old. Twenty years ago, the Qi family’s patriarch had paid an astronomical price to divine the births of children with extraordinary potential—those who might manifest phrases or even Quotes at a young age. Seven of Aria’s siblings had lived up to these high expectations, each earning their place in the family’s legacy.


    Aria, however, was considered a disappointment.


    Which I couldn’t really understand. Because Aria wasn’t someone born with a single or double character. Instead, she also had a phrase like rest of her siblings—a rare and beautiful one that should have been celebrated:


    "Ink flows where thought cannot reach."


    To me, it was a breathtaking expression of potential, but in the Qi family, beauty and artistry weren’t always enough. What mattered most was living up to the relentless weight of expectation.


    Louvel was driving his car, as he refused to travel in what he called "dirty" buses and trains. Placid and I sat in the passenger seats, and honestly, I didn’t mind. If it saved us time, I wasn’t about to complain. By the time we pulled up to the gates of the Qi Mansion, Aria was already waiting outside. She stood casually, dressed in black tights, shorts, and a matching top. The back door of the car opened automatically as we rolled to a stop, and Aria slipped in smoothly, nodding a quick greeting.


    “Hey, Aria!” Placid greeted.


    Aria didn’t even have time to respond before Louvel slammed the accelerator, and the car lurched forward like a rocket. All of us were thrown back into our seats as the engine roared.


    “Seriously, Louvel,” Placid muttered, her tone a mix of annoyance and unease. “Can’t you drive a little slower, like a normal human being?”


    “Slow is boring,” Louvel replied, grinning. “Besides, this car was built for speed.”


    “It’s also built for not killing your passengers,” I added dryly, gripping the door handle for support. “Might want to keep that in mind.”


    Aria, remarkably calm despite the turbulence, adjusted her seatbelt. “If we crash, Louvel, I’m taking it out of your hide.”


    Louvel glanced at her through the rearview mirror, smirking. “Relax, I’ve got this under control.”


    Placid huffed, crossing her arms. “Control? You’re one sharp turn away from us flying out the windows.”


    “Then buckle up,” Louvel shot back, clearly enjoying himself.


    “Already did!” Placid snapped, leaning her head back against the seat. “And if you wreck this car, I’m not helping you explain it to your parents.”


    “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Louvel said breezily, his grin widening. “I’d just pin it on North.”


    “Why am I suddenly involved?” I asked, glaring at him.


    Louvel’s grin didn’t falter as he steered us onto the highway, “Because you’re our mentor. Aren’t you supposed to take responsibility for your students?”


    There was no need to bicker with them. I stayed quiet, squinting out the window, though the scenery blurred by the speed of the car didn’t really give me anything to focus on.


    Placid, her attention now shifting, glanced at Aria. “Where were you? I couldn’t get through to you for two days. You just disappeared.”


    Aria replied calmly, glazing at Louvel, feeling slightly irritated. “I was in Japan. My cousin’s birthday party. It was a last minute plan and I barely had time to grab my luggage before heading here. I just got back late last night.”


    Placid raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have given me a heads-up? I was starting to think you ghosted me.”


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    Aria shrugged, unfazed. “I was busy,” she said casually. “You know how it is when you’ve got six cousins scattered across the world. Plans get... complicated.”


    Placid huffed, leaning back in her seat. “Fine, fine. Just don’t do that again. It was hard to survive my own boredom without you.”


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    “Anyway, … Japan? It’s been two months since I was last there. How was it?” Placid paused, curious. “Did you visit Tokyo?”


    Aria nodded casually, “I was in Tokyo. It was my cousin’s twenty-first birthday. We rented out a rooftop venue. The view was breathtaking—the whole city lit up like something out of a dream.”


    Placid’s eyes widened with envy. “That sounds amazing,” she said, practically sighing. “And here I am, stuck being grounded last week because I accidentally destroyed one of Dad’s tennis courts.”


    Louvel snorted, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “How do you accidentally destroy a tennis court? Hit the ball too hard?”


    “No,” Placid shot back, her tone defensive. “I was practicing with my meta, and I might have misjudged my energy calculation. The court’s surface was no match for the blast.”


    Aria raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You mean you got carried away showing off.”


    Placid crossed her arms, pouting. “That’s not true. It was an accident.”


    “Sure,” Louvel teased, grinning. “And I bet your dad was thrilled.”


    Placid groaned, flopping back in her seat. “He lectured me for an hour. Then he had me help oversee the repair crew for ‘educational purposes.’ Honestly, I think he just wanted to make an example of me.”


    I shook my head at Placid’s chatter. She had a remarkable talent for proving all my thoughts about her right in real time. The girl could go from gushing about rooftop parties in Tokyo to recounting her tennis-court demolition saga without missing a beat.


    Meanwhile, the car zigzagged through the North District streets at breakneck speed, and I clung to the door handle like a lifeline. Still, the smooth growl of the sports car’s engine was oddly satisfying, almost enough to make up for Louvel’s reckless driving. Eventually, we entered an older part of the district. The architecture here stood in stark contrast to the sleek modernity we’d left behind, with its preserved facades and a distinct sense of history. Thankfully, the car slowed down and finally came to a complete stop in front of a corner building. I glanced outside. There, tucked into the corner, was a fighting gym—owned by Louvel’s family.


    Over the next twenty minutes, we got ready. I swapped out my sweater and jeans for sweatpants and a T-shirt. Louvel wore athletic shorts and a fitted tank top. Placid changed into a simple black sports bra with matching leggings, tying her hair back into a no-nonsense ponytail. Aria, meanwhile, took her time and finally emerged in a headband, workout skirt and a cropped top.


    The gym was well-equipped, its space filled with weights, punching bags, and state-of-the-art training gear. A few people were scattered around, working out, but we headed straight to the back, where a private arena awaited us.


    Once ready, we started with the basics: light stretches and a jog around the ring to warm up.


    I didn’t waste time with one-on-one guidance or any sort of hand-holding nonsense. I wasn’t their trainer; I was just here to make sure they understood what it meant to fight before an overwhelming opponent. Louvel, Aria, and Placid each claimed a corner of the arena, their eyes tracking my movements like predators sizing up prey.


    Louvel was the first to step forward, flipping a couple of gold coins between his fingers with practiced ease. His Hive meta-nature was the GhostWriter,


    And then there was his title: The Rich Guy. Yes, that was his actual title. I wish I were joking.


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    However, Louvel was still a rookie with his title. I knew of someone in the future who could literally bribe reality itself with their meta-nature, and do a lot more unthinkable.


    Besides, I didn’t expect much more from The GhostWriter in the first place. After all, it wasn’t the kind of meta-nature that turned everyone into the Protagonist or the Savior. But that didn’t mean Louvel’s powers were weak—far from it. In fact, they were more practical than most flashy abilities, rooted in the raw, unyielding power of wealth itself. Simply put, The more money he carried, the stronger he became—his offense and defense tied directly to his fortune, making his riches his ultimate weapon. Of course, there was a catch: every loss came at a literal cost. Each defeat chipped away at his wealth, and in Louvel’s world, losing money wasn’t just a blow to his ego—it was a threat to his very power.


    “Alright, team meeting,” Louvel said smoothly, jerking his chin toward the edge of the ring.


    Aria raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, jogging over to join him. Placid, on the other hand, sighed dramatically. “You’re really doing this? I thought we were just supposed to hit stuff.”


    “Keep that attitude, and you’ll get wiped first,” Louvel shot back.


    “I won’t go easy,” I called out, leaning casually against the ropes, watching them. “Better make this good.”


    After breaking, Louvel clenched the gold coins tightly in his fist, the metal shimmering as it began to melt. The liquid gold flowed seamlessly over his hand, solidifying into an out of game, golden gauntlet. The more money he used, the heavier the force behind his punches became.


    Without missing a beat, he charged forward, his steps purposeful. With each stride, his fist swelled, growing impossibly large until it filled my field of vision. He was good—better than most, with a natural aptitude for fighting that paired well with his Hive meta-nature. But good wasn’t enough. Not against someone like me. I could read his movements as easily as flipping through a book. Instead of dodging, I adjusted my posture, locking his arm mid-swing. With a swift, deliberate motion, I slammed my elbow into his face. The impact was solid, and one of the gold coins in his hand slipped free, clattering to the floor.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The coin spun in a wide arc before vanishing into thin air, as if it had never existed—dispersed to wherever The GhostWriter sent it when wealth was lost.


    Louvel staggered back, his gauntlet cracking slightly. He gritted his teeth and steadied himself. He adjusted his stance, but his golden fists had lost some of their luster.


    “You’re not going to win just by chipping away at me,” Louvel said, his voice laced with irritation but underpinned by confidence. “Money’s the only thing I never run out of.”


    “Is that so?” I smirked, cracking my knuckles.


    Louvel responded with a sharp whistle, and three more coins materialized between his fingers, each glinting brilliantly in the dim light. With a flick of his wrist, the coins spun rapidly before launching toward me like bullets, slicing through the air with a piercing whistle. I sidestepped the first, leaning back to dodge the second, but the third coin curved midair, its trajectory shifting toward my chest.


    Clever.


    I ducked low, letting the coin skim past with inches to spare, though it took every ounce of focus to pull it off. Louvel wasn’t just hurling coins recklessly—each projectile moved with precision, an extension of his will. The gold coins weren’t just weapons; they were guided by intent, their strength amplified by the wealth they represented.


    Like the saying goes, money moves.


    The split-second distraction was all Louvel needed. By the time I regained my footing, he was already closing in, his fist glowing brighter as it absorbed another coin. The golden gauntlet swelled in size, its surface hardening as he brought it down in a crushing arc aimed at my shoulder. I planted my feet and twisted my body, catching the strike on my forearm. Pain shot up my arm as the force reverberated through me, but I held firm. My counterattack was immediate—I swept his legs out from under him with a quick low kick, sending him crashing to the ground.


    One, two and three…


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    The coins fell off his body almost magically, clinking as they scattered across the mat like a cascade of golden rain. It was comical—like watching a game character lose a life and drop their loot.


    It almost made me chuckle. I always liked fighting him because every time I would land a hit, money would consequently fall off his body, making a sound that was pleasant to my ears. He was the best fighting partner anyone could ask for. Louvel grunted but recovered quickly, rolling to his feet with an agility that belied his size. Without missing a beat, another coin appeared between his fingers. This time, with a flick of his wrist, it disintegrated into a fine golden mist that swirled around him like a protective aura. The air shimmered faintly, bending the light in subtle ripples as though he’d summoned an invisible barrier.


    “Not bad,” I said, adjusting my stance, keeping my focus locked on him. “But I’m not paying for damages if this place turns into Fort Aria.”


    Louvel smirked, his confidence undeterred. “Don’t worry. You’re not getting past this one.”


    Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, Placid’s leg appeared, swinging toward my face. She had launched herself into the air, her leggings and skin-tight top emphasizing her short yet athletic frame. Despite being only five-foot-two, every muscle in her body was meticulously defined. She moved with precision and agility, her knee descending toward my head like a hammer.


    Did she really think my meta was just for show?


    Ever since the bloody mutated rat incident, I’d started relying on my meta perception a lot more, to not become a prey to the same accident again.


    At the moment, my field of perception was alive with vibrant rainbow colors, like swirling clouds of multi-colored patches floating through the air. While it didn’t reveal exactly what kind of attack was coming, it allowed me to anticipate where the next strike would land. Without it, I wouldn’t have stood a chance against the three of them at once. As her knee came closer, I didn’t flinch. My hand shot up, grabbing her ankle mid-air. My smile shifted into a smirk as I tightened my grip. With a swift, decisive motion, I slammed her into the floor as hard as I could


    My strength wasn’t superhuman, but it was very well at the peak of human capability through relentless practice. Against someone like Placid, who relied on her speed and agility, I knew exactly how to counter. But before I could fully relish the moment, Placid vanished into the floor in a flash of light, reappearing ten meters away.


    She landed awkwardly, her body tumbling forward before she collapsed heavily onto the mat. Even with her teleportation, the space didn’t magically erase the momentum from my throw. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself back to her feet, her arms trembling slightly from the impact.


    Placid’s teleportation had its limits. Each jump required a recharge, drawing energy directly from her body. Her meta-nature converted calories into the power she needed to leap across space. It made me wonder—if she ever decided to bulk up, could she teleport more than a few meters? But teleportation wasn’t her only trick. Placid could channel the same energy that fueled her jumps into objects, charging them until they detonated like miniature energy bombs. This made her far more dangerous than she looked. Her petite frame and cheerful demeanor might fool most people, but her abilities marked her as the only Unique-type meta in the group—and one of the most versatile.


    Not wanting to give her time to recover, I charged forward.


    But Louvel wasn’t going to let me have it easy. Taking advantage of my distraction, he sneaked upon me and swung another golden fist. I ducked under the punch, driving my palm into his chest. His golden aura absorbed the blow, but faint ripples spread across its surface, signaling the strain. He tried to counter with a sharp knee strike, but I spun to the side, driving my elbow into his ribs.


    Another ripple spread across his golden aura, and one more gold coin fell free off his body, clinking against the floor before rolling away.


    I couldn’t help but chuckle again at the satisfying sound.


    Before I could press my advantage, Aria finally made her move. She ran in a wide circle, building momentum. I noticed the subtle glance she exchanged with Louvel and Placid. Their eyes connected for just a moment, and it was enough. They’d decided to cooperate.


    From her shadow, Aria pulled out what looked like a heavy club.


    Meanwhile, Placid rummaged in her pockets, producing small coat buttons that began to glow ominously as she charged them with energy. The buttons emitted a faint whine, growing brighter as they filled with destructive power.


    Placid hurled the glowing buttons toward me with deadly precision.


    They whistled through the air, aimed directly at my head. I could feel the heat radiating from them, knowing full well they’d explode on impact.


    My perception was filled with blood red, there was no escape.


    My gaze hardened as the fight turned serious as I waited for the right moment to take action.


    “Are you sure you can handle this, North?” Aria baited, her smirk barely visible beneath the shadows cast by the overhead lights.


    The practice arena was a huge, open space designed to contain even the most chaotic powers, with reinforced walls, and adaptive barriers.


    “Don’t hold back,” I replied, my tone calm but challenging. “I’d hate for this to be over too quickly.”


    The glowing buttons came hurtling toward me, their whine escalating to a sharp, high-pitched scream. The faint shimmer of energy around them distorted the air like a heatwave, and every instinct screamed at me to move. I had to act.


    Placid couldn’t control the object''s direction as well as Louvel could with his mind. I took advantage of the fact.


    With a deep breath, I jumped right in the air at the last possible second, doing a backflip. The buttons missed their target, embedding themselves in the wall behind with a deafening boom. The force of the explosion sent shockwaves through the arena, causing loose debris to scatter and a thick plume of smoke to rise. Aria was already on me before the smoke cleared, her shadow-forged club swinging down with crushing force. I pivoted sharply, narrowly dodging the first strike. The weapon slammed into the ground, creating a spider web of damage where I’d been standing.


    “Impressive teamwork,” I muttered, catching my breath as I darted back.


    Aria’s darted to catch my movements, as she swung the heavy club again, this time faster.


    I sidestepped and countered with a quick jab to her shoulder, throwing her off balance.


    Placid was relentless. While Aria pressed her close-quarters assault, Placid unleashed another barrage of glowing buttons, focusing her energy on blasts, their high-pitched whine growing louder with each throw. This time, they exploded mid-air, creating a dazzling display of destruction that boxed me in.


    I had no choice. I used intangibility, letting the concussive force of the explosions pass harmlessly through me.


    As the explosion cleared, Louvel seized the opportunity, he seemed to know I wouldn''t be affected by the explosion and charged straight at me, his golden fists glowing with power. His punches were quick, calculated, but predictable. I ducked under the first swing and sidestepped the second, planting a quick jab to his ribs. The impact rippled through his golden armor but didn’t faze him. He grinned, the glow intensifying as his strength increased.


    “Not bad,” I muttered, darting back as Placid suddenly hurled another charged button in my direction.


    It took her a couple of seconds to prepare another set. The charged button exploded against the ground where I’d been standing, sending up a wave of searing air. Before I could react, she was already moving, launching a rapid barrage of smaller, precise bursts of attacks to cut off my escape routes. I spun through the flames, narrowly avoiding them, and closed the gap between us. Placid’s grin faltered as I grabbed her wrist, twisting it just enough to disrupt her concentration. The flames fizzled out, and I used the momentum to toss her in the air toward Louvel, both crashed down, heavily.


    “Focus, Placid!” Louvel snapped, pushing her aside.


    Placid grunted angrily, trying to jump back up. But before I could capitalize on their misstep, Aria struck from sideways. The baseball bat in her hand whipped toward my side in a blur, forcing me to twist and block with my forearm. The impact sent a sharp jolt through my arm, and her follow-up strike came too fast for me to dodge completely. The bat caught my shoulder, pins and needles spread through my entire body, forcing me to stagger back.


    Aria smirked. Her ability to pull items from her and other’s shadows made her unpredictable—her arsenal was only limited by what she and her opponents had ever used.


    Pain was fleeting. As I retreated, she reached into the shadow behind herself again, this time withdrawing a pair of chains with the proficiency of someone who had used them hundreds of times. She hurled them at my legs, the dark metal glowing with an eerie luster. I leapt into the air, the chains snapping shut on empty ground, and retaliated with a sharp kick aimed at her wrist. The chains flew from her grip, clattering across the floor. Aria growled, diving into a shadow to retrieve another weapon, but Louvel was already upon me again. This time, his gauntlets had morphed into a massive golden hammer, its weight causing the floor to groan as he dragged them. He swung with a roar, forcing me to roll to the side. The hammer struck the ground with a deafening crash, leaving a crater where I’d been standing.


    “You’re persistent,” I said, darting behind him and delivering a sharp kick to his back.


    Louvel stumbled forward, but Placid was ready, she teleported almost behind my back and was about to hit me with another recharged button.


    I had no time to evade the incoming flames. In a split-second decision, I again shifted into being intangible.


    As the fire passed harmlessly through my incorporeal form, I felt a fleeting sensation of warmth before the flames dissipated against the far wall behind me. Using my intangibility was typically reserved for emergencies, but in this situation, I had no qualms about employing it. The people here already knew nothing about me, and they always assumed intangibility was my primary meta-nature. There was no need to hide my abilities in front of this small crowd.


    Shifting back to my tangible state, I took a moment to assess my opponent. The surprise on their face was evident.


    Placid gaped. “That’s cheating!”


    I sniggered back. “No such thing in a fight.”


    This was no ordinary sparring session—it was an all-out brawl.


    As the three of them pressed their attack, I shifted tactics. Using my meta perception, I timed my movements perfectly, weaving through their combined strikes with precision. Louvel’s fist grazed my shoulder, Aria’s spear missed by inches, and Placid’s buttons exploded harmlessly behind me.


    I finally saw my opening.


    With a swift, calculated move, I grabbed Aria’s bat mid-strike and yanked her forward, using her momentum to send her sprawling into Louvel. The two collided, tumbling to the ground in a heap. While Placid was recharging her teleport, I closed the distance between us. She stumbled back, throwing another button and almost disappearing, but I deflected it with a sharp kick, sending it careening into the far wall where it exploded harmlessly.


    I pulled her half disappeared body out of the portal by her leg before delivering a kick to her side, sending her sprawling across the floor. I showed no mercy while fighting to any.


    Only when the three were beaten up good and I had emptied my frustration did I raise my hand to stop.


    “Let’s end this for today,” I said, taking a deep breath.


    My gaze swept over the three of them as they picked themselves up, their breaths ragged and their expressions a mix of frustration and grudging respect.


    Louvel dusted off his clothes, and all the gold covering his hands and pockets disappeared into nothingness as agreed to defeat. “You’re a real pain.”


    I agreed, he had lost a lot of gold coins in the fight.


    Aria wiped sweat from her brow, her shadow weapon dissolving back into the floor. “I hate how good you are at this,” she muttered.


    Finally, Placid stumbled back up, “Okay, fine. You win—this time.”


    I took another deep breath, feeling the exhaustion in every part of my body, though I tried not to let it show. My arms and shoulders ached, numb from all the hits I’d taken. The soreness was biting, but I dragged myself over to the cooler and grabbed a drink. The cold water felt like a small relief in my stomach. I was thoroughly exhausted.


    Placid appeared beside me with a sudden pop, reaching for an energy drink. She cracked it open and glared at me. “You don’t have to kick me so hard, you know,” she grumbled, her voice laced with irritation. “It hurts! And it leaves red and blue bruises all over my skin. How many times do I have to tell you that?”


    I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “It’s a sparring match, not a tea party. Did you expect me to pull my punches?”


    “Yes!” she shot, “At least a little! I’m not a punching bag.”


    She glanced back at Louvel and Aria, who were still catching their breath and wiping off sweat on the other side of the gym. “Why don’t you hit Aria like you hit me and Louvel? What? You got a soft spot for her or something?”


    I rolled my eyes, leaning against the wall. “It’s not about a soft spot. Aria actually blocks my hits instead of whining about them.”


    Placid gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Wow, the audacity! So now I’m whiny?”


    “I’m just saying,” I replied, shrugging. “You spend more time complaining about bruises than focusing on the fight.”


    “To be honest,” I crossed my arms and leveling a look at Placid, “I’ve fought a lot of people who can teleport or disappear. Your ability is one of the strongest out there, but honestly? You’re the worst at using it.”


    Her grin faltered, blinking.


    “You don’t play to your strengths,” I continued, “Today, instead of rushing in to fight me up close, you could’ve grabbed me and teleported somewhere I couldn’t fight back—like the roof or halfway across the gym. Hell, you could’ve stayed at a distance and hit me from a block away if you’d thought it through.”


    Placid’s gaze dropped slightly, her hands tightening around the now-empty energy drink can.


    “But no. You keep rushing in like it’s a boxing match. You’re making things harder for yourself, not me. I can’t teach you how to use your power creatively. That’s on you. Start thinking like someone who’s got an edge, not like someone trying to prove something.”


    Her expression stiffened, and I caught the faint sheen in her eyes before she vanished with a sharp pop, leaving the air around me tense and heavy. The empty energy drink can was still in my hand, and I sighed, glancing at the spot she’d been moments before. Maybe I’d pushed too hard, but she needed to hear it. Didn’t she? We called off training for the day. In my eyes, it had been enough. The three of them were improving quickly, and besides, they already had personal coaches to train them daily. Even though we had five more hours left of the eight I’d set aside for today, I didn’t see the point in dragging it out further.


    After the fight, we cleaned up, changed into casual clothes, and headed to a nearby café. We found a small table by the window and sat down, the energy much more relaxed.


    I took a sip of my coffee and glanced at Louvel. “How much money did you lose today?”


    Louvel shrugged, swirling his drink. “Pocket change.”


    I rolled my eyes inwardly. Then why don’t you give me some of your money as compensation? I’d be eternally grateful.


    Placid leaned forward, “Pocket change? Like enough to buy a bike or enough to buy a house?”


    “Does it matter?” Louvel replied, raising an eyebrow. “I’m still richer than all of you combined.”


    Aria stirred her tea, her tone flat. “Maybe if you fought smarter, you wouldn’t lose so much.”


    Louvel smirked. “Smarter? I’m pretty sure I was the MVP today.”


    “You landed hits,” I said, deadpan, “and then landed on the mat. Many times in fact. Big difference.”


    Laughter rippled through the table, Louvel shaking his head.


    I glanced at Aria, the question that had been nagging at me finally surfacing. “What’s your plan for the future, Aria?”


    She lifted her gaze, her tone flat a little defensive. “Why?”


    My God, did I ask you to give up your dog or something? I thought, but kept my expression neutral. “Just curious.”


    Louvel and Placid, sensing the shift in conversation, turned their attention to her as well, their curiosity matching mine.


    Aria hesitated, her fingers lightly tapping the side of her cup. “I don’t know,” Her eyes drifted toward the window, as if the answer might be out there somewhere. “The great-grandmother hasn’t decided anything for me yet.”


    Louvel raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Decided? Sounds like you’re not the one making the call.”


    Aria shrugged, her tone indifferent but with a flicker of something deeper beneath. “That’s how it works in my family. She decides where I’m needed. Lately, there’s talk of me overseeing a branch… probably in the far outer systems.”


    Placid blinked, sitting up straighter. “The far outer systems? That sounds... intense. What, like some mining operation or shipping hub?”


    “Something like that,” Aria replied, her tone noncommittal as her gaze returned to the table.


    The Weave. Aria’s great-grandmother meticulously controlled her family and their futures. The Weave likely already had a plan for Aria, one that could either maximize Aria potential or polish her ability out whatever made her special. It was just a matter of time before Aria was folded into it.


    Placid leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, her expression caught between sympathy and curiosity. “Honestly it sounds lonely. Do you at least know anyone out there? Friend? Boyfriend?”


    Aria shrugged, “Not really. You know how it is—people who leave to settle in other systems don’t exactly look back fondly on Earth. Most of them think we’re a backward society and make it a point to distance themselves.”


    Placid frowned at the topic. “Seriously! I mean Earth was, like, the cradle of civilization or whatever. Don’t they have any pride in that?”


    Aria let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Pride? Sure, until they’re a few light-years away. Then it’s all about proving they’re ‘better’ than the planet they came from. Nobody wants to be tied to what they see as the past.”


    Louvel leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Makes sense. It’s always easier to talk trash about home when you’re not there to deal with it.”


    We all nodded silently, understanding Aria’s sentiment. She suddenly became quite pitiful in my eyes. Luckily, I didn’t have to deal with those kinds of expectations. Coming from a humble background with an equally modest meta-nature had its perks. I chuckled to myself at the thought.


    Our light moment was interrupted by the sudden buzz of Louvel’s phone. He pulled it out, frowning as he glanced at the screen. “It’s Adam,” he muttered, swiping to answer. Bringing the phone to his ear, he leaned back slightly. “Hey, man, what’s up?”


    For a moment, the light-hearted atmosphere around the table dimmed as we watched his expression change. His usual laid-back demeanor suddenly stiffened, his brows furrowing as his lips tightened into a grim line.


    “Wait, slow down,” he said sharply, sitting upright. “What do you mean someone stole your girlfriend?”


    Placid nearly spat out her drink. “Excuse me, what?”


    Louvel held up a finger to silence her, his focus still on the call. “No, no, start from the beginning. What exactly happened?”


    Aria and I exchanged a glance, both unsure whether to laugh at the absurdity of the situation or feel bad.


    “What does that even mean—‘stole’?” Placid whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Is she a wallet?”


    Perhaps she’d been kidnapped—some people really don’t know how to communicate clearly, and words like “stole” could be taken the wrong way.


    "Where are you now?" Louvel''s voice had dropped into something serious, his carefree tone replaced with sharp urgency. "I''m coming now. Don''t do anything stupid, Adam."


    He hung up, his jaw clenched as he stood abruptly, shoving his phone back into his pocket.


    "What happened?" Placid asked with genuine concern, at least from what I could tell.


    Louvel ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to stay composed. “Adam’s girlfriend was kidnapped,” he said, his voice clipped. “Some gang grabbed her right off the street. He’s hiding nearby and has no idea what to do.”


    Aria raised an eyebrow, her tone calm and direct. "And he called you because...?"


    Louvel turned to Aria, frustration flashing in his eyes. “Because he trusts me to help him! I can’t just leave him hanging.”


    Aria’s expression didn’t waver. “I didn’t mean to question his choice. I’m asking if you have a plan.”


    Placid immediately stood up, “You’re not going alone, are you?”


    Louvel hesitated, his gaze shifting between her and the rest of us. Finally, he said, “I could use some backup.” His voice softened as he looked at each of us. “Look, I know it’s asking a lot, but he’s a good friend. I can’t handle this alone. North, Aria, Placid—will you come with me?”


    Aria leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she eyed him skeptically. “Running into a situation blind doesn’t sound like the smartest move,” she said flatly.


    “I’m not asking for a full-scale battle,” Louvel replied quickly. “Just help me assess the situation. We won’t fight unless we have to.”


    Placid glanced at me, then back at Louvel, a mischievous glint in her eye. “If North’s in, I’m in. We need someone to take the blame if this all goes sideways.” She winked at me.


    I rolled my eyes, also leaning back in my chair.


    But then Aria turned her attention to me too, her stare weighing on me like a silent demand.


    Why is everyone looking at me? I thought. Honestly, if they wanted to go off without me, I’d be perfectly fine with that. They could handle this, right? I could go home, catch up on some much-needed sleep, maybe even spend some time with Jade. That plan sounded infinitely better than diving into whatever mess Louvel had found.


    “North?” Louvel eyes practically begged for my agreement.


    I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Fine,” I muttered. “But if this turns into a disaster, we’re taking a U-turn.”


    Louvel’s face lit up with relief, a grin spreading across his face. “As you say.”


    Rich people are weird, I concluded silently. They even manage to get their girlfriends stolen—or kidnapped, depending on their vocabulary. Like, how does that even happen? Do they put up a sign? “Priceless Girlfriend, Handle With Care.”


    And here I was, dragged into their drama like some kind of discount hero-for-hire.


    At least Placid seemed to be enjoying this. She was practically bouncing on her heels, probably already imagining herself as the star of some high-octane rescue mission.


    Aria, on the other hand, looked as unflappable as ever


    We left our half-drunk coffees behind, and Louvel’s car once again tore down the road at a speed that made my stomach churn. With his daddy’s money, he could probably buy off the police—or, hell, the entire department. The guy didn’t even pretend to care about breaking every traffic law in existence. Honestly, if he ran someone over, I half-expected him to shrug it off with a “They’ll send the bill.” I stared out the window, watching the world blur by, the chaotic energy of the group settling uncomfortably in my gut. They weren’t the best company—too reckless, too self-centered. Yet here I was, riding shotgun in a rich kid’s car, dragged into another mess I hadn’t asked for.


    The realization hit me like a sucker punch: every time I stepped out of the house, trouble found me.


    Whether it was a minor inconvenience or some catastrophic disaster, chaos seemed to have me on speed dial. It was almost funny in a dark, ironic way. Almost.


    Did I somehow become the protagonist of some ridiculous story? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. No, no, that can’t be right.


    But what if it was?


    “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, the weight of realization settling in. “I need to stop sticking my nose into other people’s problems.”


    It wasn’t just a passing thought—it was a decision.Right there and then, I vowed to change. To stay out of the drama. To stay alive. I’d seen enough disasters to know that being the center of chaos was a terrible survival strategy. But as I mulled it over, doubt crept in. Would my words hold any weight? Or was trouble already lurking around the corner, ready to pull me in again?


    With one hand on the wheel, Louvel used the other to dial a number. The call connected, and Adam’s voice came through the car’s speakers.


    “Where are you?” Louvel asked.


    “I’m on Sr. Jones Street,” Adam replied quickly. “Hiding behind a tree. I see them. It’s the college rowdy student gang—it has to be. They deliberately kidnapped her to draw us out. I’m watching their movements, but hurry the hell up.”


    The car surged forward, Louvel slamming his foot on the accelerator. My grip tightened on the door handle as the engine roared, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The sharp turn into a residential area sent a jolt through the car, nearly throwing us against the doors. The rich neighborhood blurred past the windows. The houses here were modest, far smaller than the grand estates we’d passed earlier in the North District. This area looked like it belonged to people who were only rich in name—enough to maintain appearances but not much else.


    The car screeched to a halt near a small park, the tires kicking up a thin layer of dust. Before the engine had fully settled, we stepped out.


    In the park nearby, Adam was standing under the shadow of a tree. He was a young man around our age, wearing a red hoodie and jeans. A cap pulled low over his face didn’t hide the unmistakable relief that washed over him as Louvel emerged from the car.


    “Thank God you’re here,” Adam said, hurrying over.


    I took a moment to size Adam up as he moved closer. He didn’t have the polished, arrogant air of Louvel’s usual crowd. His clothes were simple, worn but clean, his posture unassuming. He looked like just a regular guy. So, Louvel has normal friends too? The thought caught me off guard. It was unexpected, to say the least.


    Louvel didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Where are they? Take me there.” he said, his tone curt and impatient.


    Adam nodded briskly. “Follow me.”