Lin Da'is skidded through the twisted alleyway, debris snapping underfoot, heart hammering in sync with the Core. Shadows peeled off walls like liquid ink, writhing, stretching toward him.
"Why are they everywhere?!" he shouted, dodging a wall strike that bent around the corner.
They sense you. Adaptation required, the Core replied.
A flicker of motion to his left—three attackers dropped from a broken scaffold, limbs bending wrong, mouths opening where no mouths should exist. Reflexively, Lin swung a metal pipe. It shattered against one attacker's torso, which rippled like liquid before snapping into dust.
"You're fast," hissed another, voice metallic, layered over a resonance that made Lin's teeth ache. "But you're still human."
Not anymore, the Core whispered. Muscles restructured mid-movement. Lin's limbs felt heavier yet lighter, faster yet controlled.
A figure emerged ahead—taller, featureless, glowing faintly under the warped city lights. It raised a hand. Space seemed to ripple around it, like reality had folded. Lin stumbled to a stop.
"Wait," he breathed. "Who… what are you?"
Silence. Then the figure tilted its head. Shadows recoiled. Buildings warped around its presence, bending walls into angles that made Lin's stomach lurch.
Observation. No attack yet, the Core warned.
Another shadow lunged from behind. Lin spun, energy surging through his fists. He struck, sending a pulse of force that shattered the air around the attacker. It didn't die. It didn't recoil. It fractured, multiplied, and lunged again.
Level Three activation available, the Core said, calm as ever.
"Fine," Lin muttered. "Let's see what this can do."
Energy rippled along his veins. His eyes glowed faintly blue. Reality distorted subtly as he moved, leaving afterimages of himself in multiple frames. Every attack became predictive, almost preemptive. Every strike displaced the attackers before they fully emerged.
The tall figure in front shifted. A ripple of awareness passed through Lin. They know you are Milestars. The Void observes directly.
Lin clenched his teeth. "Then let them see."
He charged forward, Core synchronizing muscles, nerves, even breath. Each motion was calculated for maximum survival. Shadows struck from every angle. A leg bent backward, limbs curling impossibly, jaws opening mid-air. Lin blocked, dodged, struck, his body instinctively adapting.
A pulse of black energy from the Core erupted, sending a shockwave across the alley. Shadows exploded into fragments, dissolving into black dust. The tall figure shifted. Not retreating. Waiting. Watching.
Pain struck Lin's skull—knowledge compressed into a moment. He understood something he shouldn't: the Void wasn't just observing—it was mapping him. Learning him. Predicting him.
Don't stop. Don't hesitate.
He ran toward the figure. Shadows dissolved into the walls and ground, reassembling behind him. Every step, every motion became a blur of prediction and reaction.
"Why me?" he shouted into the warped air.
You were made for this.
The Core pulsed violently. Muscles, reflexes, perception, thought—all recalibrated simultaneously. Time stretched. Not around him—but for him. He moved, attacked, defended, predicted—all at once. Shadows collided, dissolved, fractured, but never fully disappeared.
The tall figure shifted slightly, and the city seemed to recoil. Windows cracked, streetlights flickered, metal warped. A sudden pulse surged from it, distorting Lin's perception. He staggered, vision splitting into three layers—past, present, and immediate future projected simultaneously.
Level Four ready. Engage at discretion, the Core whispered.
Lin hesitated only a second. Reality had already bent too far, the Void probing too deep. He clenched his fists. Energy erupted. Shadows scattered. His body moved with precision that defied comprehension, each strike pre-calculated and executed instantly.
The figure stepped forward. Shadows from the surroundings bent into its form, merging into something larger, darker, more wrong. Lin realized the Void didn't just send observers—it sent constructs, fragments of itself shaped into forms that obeyed only its will.
"Stay human," he muttered bitterly. "Too late for that."
A massive shadow lunged. Lin didn't dodge—he became a blur, splitting perception into multiple threads. One strike, two strikes, three—he moved through attacks that shouldn't exist in the same instant. The Core guided him flawlessly.
Pain surged—not from blows, but from knowledge. He glimpsed the Void's awareness. It wasn't just out there. It was inside, probing, testing, cataloging, calculating.
Survive. Adapt. Learn.
Lin roared, activating the last reserve of the Core's Level Four protocol. Energy erupted from his body, tearing the alley apart. Shadows recoiled, fractured, some evaporating completely.
Silence fell. Buildings were warped. Streets cracked. The tall figure, featureless and immense, stood before him, almost calm. No attack. No movement. Just presence. And something in the air whispered:
This is only the beginning.
Lin's chest heaved. Blood ran down his forehead from a scratch, his arms trembled, but his body hummed with residual energy. Every instinct screamed—danger, survival, adaptation. Every calculation told him: this fight was far from over.
The Void has noticed fully. They will not relent. You are Milestars. You are the anomaly. You are prey and predator.
Lin whispered to himself, voice trembling: "Then let them come."
Shadows gathered behind the figure, folding into the air, coalescing into shapes more terrifying, more impossible than before. Lin knew one thing with terrifying clarity: whatever came next, he would not survive if he stopped moving.
And he could not stop.