Five delinquents sat inside an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Sovereign City. Most of them had once worn academy uniforms. Now the place smelled of dust, old oil, rusted metal, and cheap beer. Thin light leaked through cracked high windows and caught floating particles in the air.
A dark-skinned man with long braids, Drake, sat on a crate, bottle in hand. Condensation wet his palm. He took a long drink; the liquid was warm and bitter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.
"Aren't you supposed to be friends with Tyler?" a lanky one, Angelo, asked. His voice echoed slightly off the concrete walls.
Drake let out a short laugh that turned into a cough. "Friends? Don't make me laugh."
"Still, Tony's going to be happy," another said. "We were supposed to put him in the ground. He should be worm food by now."
The one wearing glasses, Spike, shook his head. The lenses caught a dull glint of light. He still attended the academy, which made the others look at him sideways sometimes. "He's not dead. He's still showing up to class. People are saying he's different now. Some even saw him step in for Bruce Mercer."
Drake lowered the bottle. Glass scraped against the rough wood of the crate. "That shrimp he used to push around?"
"That's the one."
Angelo delinquent snorted. "So what, he dies for a night and comes back a saint? Maybe I should try whatever he took."
Before anyone could answer, the side door creaked open on stiff hinges. A girl in a modified academy uniform stepped inside—jacket open, skirt shorter than regulation. Cooler outside air followed her in for a moment, cutting through the stale warehouse smell. She looked around the group and didn't bother with greetings.
"You need to hear this," she said. "Jessica Mavis saw him. Tyler's been racing to the academy the last three mornings. On time."
Silence held for a second. Somewhere in the building a loose sheet of metal tapped faintly in the wind.
"So the rumors are true," Drake muttered. "Cockroaches really don't know how to stay down."
"What do we do?" Angelo asked.
"We don't do anything stupid yet." Drake stood. His boots scuffed against grit on the concrete. He set the empty bottle on the crate; it wobbled once before settling. "Tony needs to hear it first. Then we call the rest of the crew. If Tyler really thinks he can just walk around like nothing happened, we'll correct that."
No one argued. The air in the warehouse felt heavier after the words landed.
---
Across the city, Tyler kept the scooter at a steady speed. The evening air had turned cooler and carried the faint smell of damp pavement and exhaust. Wind pressed against his face and slipped under the collar of his jacket. The engine's vibration ran up through the seat and into his legs. His destination was Central Park and the statue of Lady Minerva—the hero who had stood against the Veilfall when the world nearly ended.
The system window opened without warning, blue light sharp against the dimming sky.
[Notice]
[Visit the Paragon]
Visit the statue of Lady Minerva. Offer flowers and say a prayer for guidance. Reward available.
Tyler exhaled through his teeth. The breath showed faintly in the cooling air. "Of course. Another errand."
Can this thing give me anything that isn't a chore?
The light ahead turned green. He opened the throttle a little more. The scooter surged forward; the handlebars trembled under his palms. Visiting hours ended at 18:00. The clock on the panel left him almost no margin.
He took a quieter side route. Buildings threw long shadows across the empty street. At one intersection the light was already red, but the road looked clear in both directions. He rolled through it without slowing much. The engine note bounced off the quiet storefronts as he passed.
Central Park was nearly empty when he arrived. Weekday evenings rarely drew a crowd to the shrine. Gravel crunched under the scooter's tires as he pulled into the designated spot. He locked it, the metal of the lock cold against his fingers, and walked toward the small stall near the path.
An old woman sold flowers under a dim lamp. The air there smelled of cut stems and faint perfume. Tyler checked what little money he had and bought the cheapest small bouquet—red and pink flowers already starting to droop, petals soft and slightly cool against his hand.
He walked toward the statue.
Lady Minerva stood taller than the surrounding trees, white marble with thin lines of gold inlaid along the armor and the blade at her side. The fading light caught the edges and made them look briefly alive. The base of the statue felt solid and cold when he stopped in front of it.
Tyler lowered his head, flowers held against his chest. The paper wrapping rustled faintly. He closed his eyes.
He asked for guidance. For clarity. For something that would help him survive the body and the reputation he had inherited.
And if you're listening… I could use a little more than luck.
When he opened his eyes again, a light, clear sensation moved through his head and shoulders, as if a tightness he hadn't fully noticed had loosened. The cool evening air felt sharper in his lungs.
The system chimed, soft but distinct.
[Congratulations] [Task complete] Your prayer has been acknowledged.
Rewards: +1 Bonus Stat +100 EXP Temporary Stamina Regeneration
The status window updated in clean blue lines.
**Personal Information** Name: Tyler Mason Age: 19 Level: 1 EXP: 200/300 Type: Ability User Class: None Height: 5'11"
HP: 1050 Stamina: 350 Defense: 20
Strength: 20 (−5) → 15 Speed: 10 Dexterity: 15 Health: 15 (−5) → 11 Ether Control: 10 Stamina: 12 (−6) → 6
New fields. HP, defense, and a clearer Stamina reading. Tyler stared at the numbers for a moment. The blue light reflected faintly in his eyes.
Either this system is still unlocking pieces… or it's telling me things are about to get worse.
He closed the window. The afterimage lingered for a second. After that, he placed the bouquet of flowers to the ground before the statue. He turned away after, gravel shifting under his shoes, and started back toward the scooter.
Three figures stepped out from the tree line near the path.
Drake, Angelo, and Spike.
Their shoes made soft sounds on the grass, then harder ones as they reached the gravel. Drake's voice carried easily in the quiet park.
"Hello, Tyler. We need to talk."
Tyler stopped. The park around them was too quiet. No other visitors are close enough to matter. The smell of the flowers mixed with the cooler scent of trees and distant traffic.
He didn't answer right away. His weight shifted slightly onto the balls of his feet, the way the old memories did before a fight they weren't sure they could win. The evening air touched the back of his neck.
The three of them spread out just enough to cut the easy path back to the scooter. Their shadows stretched long across the gravel in the fading light.
Whatever they wanted to discuss, it wasn't going to stay a conversation for long.
Chapter discussion