The girl hopped down from the three-meter wall. She didn't use a ladder; she just fell, landing silently on the pavement like a cat.
She walked over to me, her boots crunching on the glass. Up close, she was even more intimidating. Her silver hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her eyes were a striking shade of icy blue—definitely contacts, or maybe...
maybe not.
She stopped three feet away and pointed the sheathed katana at my nose.
"Name," she demanded.
"Aryan," I squeaked, still sitting on the ground. "I didn't steal this! It attached itself to me! I'm a victim here!"
She narrowed her eyes. "Aryan. Grade 11.
Section B. You sit near the window and sleep during History class."
My jaw dropped. "You're a stalker?"
"I'm in Section A, you idiot," she sighed, sheathing the sword. "Riya. Riya Sen. And you just caused a Class-3 Mana Spike that probably woke up every sensor in the city. Do you have a death wish?"
"I was attacked by a demon dog!" I protested, struggling to stand up. My legs felt like jelly.
"A Hell-Hound," she corrected. "Low-level scavenger. You shouldn't have needed a... whatever that was... to kill it." She gestured to the smoking bracelet on my wrist.
She walked past me toward the scorch mark where the beast used to be. She crouched down and picked up the glowing red stone—the Core.
"Sloppy," she muttered. "You vaporized the pelt. The fur is worth 5,000 rupees on the black market. At least the Core is intact." She tossed the red stone in the air and caught it. "I'm keeping this. Compensation for mental trauma."
"Trauma? You have trauma? I almost died!"
Riya ignored me. She tapped the side of her glasses. A small holographic display flickered over her left eye.
"Readings are normalizing," she said to herself. "The Rift is closing." She turned back to me. "We need to leave. The ADTF (Anti-Demon Task Force) will be here in five minutes. If they find you with an unregistered Artifact, they won't expel you, Aryan. They'll dissect you."
That woke me up. "Dissect? Like... a frog?"
"Like a lab rat. Move."
She led me through a maze of back alleys I didn't know existed. She moved with a confidence that didn't fit a high school student. She checked corners, watched the rooftops, and kept her hand near her sword.
We ended up in an old, abandoned metro station underneath the sector. It was cool and damp.
"Okay, stop," I panted, leaning against a graffiti-covered pillar. "Time out. Who are you? Why do you have a sword? And why aren't you freaking out that I just turned into a human torch?"
Riya leaned against the ticket booth, crossing her arms.
"I'm a 'Sweeper,'" she said calmly. "My family handles... pest control. Unofficially. We clean up the small Rifts that the military ignores."
"So you're like... an illegal monster hunter?"
"I prefer 'Freelance Consultant,'" she smirked. "And as for you... I saw the energy signature. That device on your wrist. It's not modern tech. It's Ancient Class. Maybe Mythic."
She stepped closer, her blue eyes locking onto the Astra-Chakra.
"Where did you find it?"
"In the rubble. Just now."
"It chose you," she murmured, looking annoyed. "Of all people, it chose the guy who drools in History class."
"Hey!"
"Listen, Aryan. That thing isn't a toy. It draws on Prana—life energy. That's why you passed out. If you use it for too long without training, it will burn your soul out like a cheap fuse. You'll die."
I looked at the bracelet. It suddenly felt very heavy. "So... how do I take it off?"
"You can't," she said cheerfully. "It's bio-locked. Until you die, or until you master it. Those are your options."
I slid down the pillar until I was sitting on the dirty floor again. "I'm dead. My mom is going to kill me for dying."
Riya sighed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small card. She flicked it at me. It fluttered down and landed on my knee.
It was a business card. It just had a phone number and a QR code.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered.
"I'm going to regret this."
"What is this?" I asked.
"My consultation fee is 20% of whatever loot we find," she said strictly. "I'll teach you how not to blow yourself up. In exchange, you help me with the bigger Rifts. I need a 'Tank'—someone to take the hits while I deal the damage. You seem durable enough."
"You want me to fight more of those things?"
"It's either that or the government lab," she shrugged. "Your choice, Torch-Head."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from my mom:
Where are you? Dinner is ready. Don't be late.
I looked at the text. I looked at the girl with the sword. I looked at the alien god-device on my wrist.
"20 percent?" I asked weakly.
"30 percent if you keep complaining."
"Deal."