Sofia's bounty hit the Grey Market within an hour.

  Mira showed Viktor the posting when he returned to the safehouse. Her tablet screen glowed in the dim apartment:

  BOUNTY: Viktor Krause

  Crime: Near-killed Jakub Král (husband of poster)

  Reward: 50 days to anyone who brings proof of Viktor's dissolution

  Status: ACTIVE - 12 hunters confirmed interested

  "Fifty days," Viktor said. He collapsed on the couch. Every muscle ached from training and the fight with Jakub. "That's more than I have."

  "It's also more than most Scavengers will see in months." Mira closed the tablet. "Sofia's desperate. Angry. She liquidated assets to put that bounty up. Jakub must have dissolved by now—fourteen minutes doesn't get you far."

  Viktor's timer read 104:14:08. Four days, eight hours.

  He'd left Jakub with fourteen minutes. By now, the man had hit zero. Dissolved in some alley or doorway, screaming as his body turned to ash.

  Viktor should have felt something. Guilt. Remorse. Horror.

  He felt nothing.

  "Twelve hunters," he said. "How long before they find this place?"

  "They already know where we are." Mira went to the window, peered through the blinds. "Three of them are outside right now. Waiting."

  "What?"

  "They're smart. They know you're training for Dominik's duel. They figure you'll come back here eventually. So they wait." She let the blinds fall. "Which means we need to leave. Tonight. Find somewhere they can't track us."

  "And then what? Hide until the duel?"

  "No. Then you get stronger." Mira turned to face him. Her expression was serious. Calculating. "Viktor, four days isn't enough to fight Dominik. Even with Jakub's time. You need a major kill. Someone with years, not days."

  "You want me to kill a Keeper."

  "I want you to survive." She pulled up another file on her tablet. "Luděk Novotny. Thirty-four years old. Keeper-level. Awakened nine years ago. Current timer: approximately eight years."

  The photo showed a man in an expensive suit. Slicked-back hair. Cold smile.

  "Luděk runs protection rackets," Mira continued. "Forces Scavengers to pay him monthly time or he drains them. He's got over two hundred people paying into his operation. Eight years on his timer. And he's isolated."

  "Isolated how?"

  "He lives alone in a penthouse apartment. ?i?kov Tower, twentieth floor. No bodyguards—he doesn't need them with eight years of power. He's arrogant. Comfortable." Mira met Viktor's eyes. "Kill him, and you'll have eight-plus years total. That's enough to fight Dominik on equal footing."

  Viktor stared at the photo. Eight years. An ocean of time compared to his four days.

  But this wasn't self-defense anymore. This was premeditated murder.

  "I can't just walk into his penthouse and kill him," Viktor said.

  "No. But I can get you inside." Mira pulled up building schematics. "I've brokered information for Luděk before. He trusts me. I tell him I have valuable intelligence—he lets us up. You get close. Drain him fast."

  "And you're okay with this? You've worked with him—"

  "I've worked with everyone." Mira's voice was flat. "That's the job. Information flows, I get paid. Loyalty's a luxury in this world." She zoomed in on the penthouse layout. "Luděk's a parasite who drains desperate people. The world's better without him. And you need his time."

  Viktor looked at his timer. 104:11:22. Counting down. Always counting down.

  Forty-six hours until Dominik.

  "When do we go?" he asked.

  "Now. While Sofia's hunters are watching this building, we slip out the back. Hit Luděk before anyone knows we've moved." Mira grabbed her jacket. "You ready?"

  Viktor stood. His body protested—exhausted, injured, pushed past its limits.

  But his timer kept ticking. And survival didn't wait for rest.

  "Let's go."

  ?i?kov Tower loomed over Prague's skyline like a communist-era nightmare—three concrete pillars connected by observation decks, all of it covered in crawling-baby sculptures that looked wrong in the streetlights.

  Viktor and Mira approached at 2 AM. The lobby was locked, but Mira had a keycard from a previous job. They slipped inside.

  "Cameras?" Viktor whispered.

  "Disabled on the twentieth floor. Luděk doesn't like surveillance in his space." Mira hit the elevator button. "Remember—he'll sense you're Awakened the moment we enter. Keepers develop Time Sense around the five-year mark. He'll see your timer, know you're a threat."

  "So how do we get close?"

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  "You don't. I distract. You strike from behind." The elevator arrived. They stepped in. "And Viktor? Don't hesitate. Eight years of time makes him fast. If you give him a second to react, he'll kill us both."

  The elevator climbed. Viktor's heart hammered. His hand rested on the knife in his jacket—Mira's knife, worn grip, sharp blade.

  Twenty floors. Nineteen. Eighteen.

  His timer: 104:08:14

  Seventeen. Sixteen. Fifteen.

  "One more thing," Mira said quietly. "If something goes wrong—if Luděk gets the upper hand—you run. Don't try to save me. Just run."

  "I'm not—"

  "Promise me."

  Viktor looked at her. At the determination in her dark eyes. At the woman who'd saved his life, trained him, turned him into a hunter.

  "I promise," he lied.

  The elevator opened on the twentieth floor.

  Luděk's penthouse occupied the entire level. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Prague's glittering sprawl. Modern furniture. Minimalist art. Money and power on display.

  And standing by the window, drink in hand, was Luděk Novotny.

  His timer glowed: 2,847:14:08. Seven years, two hundred eighty-seven days. Eight years, approximately.

  Massive. Overwhelming.

  Luděk turned. His eyes found Mira first, then Viktor. He smiled.

  "Mira Kova?. It's been months. You said you had information worth my time." His gaze shifted to Viktor, assessed his timer. "And you brought a Scavenger with four days. How... interesting."

  "He's my associate," Mira said smoothly. She walked into the penthouse like she owned it. "Viktor Krause. The one who killed Tomá? and has Dominik's blood debt."

  "Ah. The fresh meat everyone's talking about." Luděk sipped his drink. "Brave of you to show your face, Viktor. Stupid, but brave."

  Viktor stayed near the elevator. Calculating distance. Luděk was five meters away. Too far to rush. And with eight years on his timer, he'd be fast. Inhumanly fast.

  "What information?" Luděk asked Mira.

  "Collector movements. Bishop's planning a purge of unregistered Keepers. Your name's on the list." Mira pulled out her tablet, showed him fabricated documents. "I can get you details—targets, timeline, everything. For a price."

  Luděk leaned in to look at the screen.

  Viktor moved.

  Training kicked in—Mira's lessons, the hours of practice. He crossed the five meters in silence, knife out, hand reaching for Luděk's wrist.

  Luděk spun.

  Time Dash.

  One second he was looking at the tablet. The next, he was three meters away, Viktor's knife slicing empty air.

  "Fast," Luděk said. He wasn't even breathing hard. "But predictable." His eyes met Viktor's. "Eight years gives me abilities you can't imagine, Scavenger. Time Dash. Echo Strike. I can move faster than you can think."

  He demonstrated.

  Time Dash again—Luděk blurred, appeared behind Viktor, grabbed his wrist.

  The drain hit like ice water.

  104:08:14 → 104:06:22 → 104:03:14

  Five minutes. Gone in seconds.

  Viktor twisted, broke the grip. Lunged with the knife.

  Luděk caught his wrist mid-stab. Squeezed.

  Bones ground together. Viktor's hand spasmed. The knife clattered to the floor.

  "Did you really think," Luděk said softly, "that a Scavenger with four days could kill a Keeper with eight years?"

  He started draining again. Both hands on Viktor's wrists now, overwhelming pressure, time flowing out in a flood.

  104:03:14 → 103:22:14 → 103:18:08 → 102:14:08

  A full day. Gone.

  Viktor's vision blurred. His body weakened—time was strength, time was life, and it was pouring out of him like blood from a wound.

  Mira screamed something. Viktor couldn't hear over the rushing in his ears.

  Then—instinct.

  Something deep inside Viktor, some survival mechanism the Chronos System had awakened, activated.

  Echo Strike.

  He didn't know the ability's name. Didn't understand it consciously. But his body knew.

  His right fist swung at Luděk's face. Connected. Once.

  Then the echo hit—the same punch, half a second later, double impact.

  Luděk's head snapped back. His grip loosened.

  Viktor grabbed his wrist with both hands.

  And pulled.

  Time flowed. Reversed. Viktor's will against Luděk's, desperate against comfortable, life-or-death against casual arrogance.

  For a moment, they were evenly matched.

  Then Viktor stopped thinking of it as a fight.

  He thought of it as architecture.

  Load-bearing walls. Foundations. Structural integrity. His professors had hammered it into him—find the weak point, apply pressure, and even the strongest building falls.

  Luděk's weak point: arrogance. Eight years made him confident. Secure. He wasn't fighting like his life depended on it.

  Viktor was.

  The drain accelerated.

  2,847:14:08 → 2,847:10:22 → 2,847:04:14

  Ten minutes in seconds.

  Luděk's eyes widened. "What—"

  2,847:04:14 → 2,846:18:08 → 2,846:08:14

  Half a day. One day. Two days.

  Luděk tried to pull away. Viktor held on with everything he had. Both hands locked on Luděk's wrist, his entire being focused on one thing: drain.

  2,846:08:14 → 2,844:14:08 → 2,840:22:14

  Five days. Six days.

  "Stop," Luděk gasped. "Please—we can negotiate—"

  2,840:22:14 → 2,830:14:08 → 2,810:08:14

  Forty days. Fifty days.

  Luděk's strength was failing now. Eight years didn't matter when they were being drained at this rate. He collapsed to his knees.

  Viktor followed him down. Didn't let go.

  2,810:08:14 → 2,700:14:08 → 2,400:22:14

  Four hundred days. Five hundred. Six hundred.

  Luděk stopped struggling. Just stared at Viktor with something between terror and recognition.

  "You're not... a Scavenger," he whispered.

  2,400:22:14 → 1,800:14:08 → 847:08:14

  Two years. Three years. Four.

  Viktor felt power flooding into him. Not just time—actual physical power. Strength. Speed. His senses sharpening, his body adapting.

  He was crossing a threshold.

  847:08:14 → 365:14:08 → 00:47:22

  One year. Months. Days.

  "Please," Luděk begged. Tears streamed down his face. "I have people who—"

  00:47:22 → 00:14:08 → 00:00:47

  Seconds.

  Viktor let go.

  Luděk collapsed. His timer hit zero.

  00:00:00

  Dissolution began immediately.

  Luděk's fingers dissolved first—translucent, then vapor, then nothing. The process spread. Hands. Arms. Torso.

  "Worth it?" he whispered. His eyes were already fading. "Becoming monster... worth survival?"

  Then he was gone. Thirty seconds from human to ash.

  Viktor stood over the pile of gray dust.

  His timer glowed:

  2,980:18:14

  Eight years. One hundred ninety-seven days.

  He'd just become a Keeper.

  Mira pulled him away from the ash. Out of the penthouse. Into the elevator.

  They rode down in silence.

  At ground level, Viktor's legs gave out. Mira caught him, dragged him to a bench outside the tower.

  "You did it," she said. Shock in her voice. "You actually did it. Drained a Keeper as a Scavenger."

  Viktor stared at his hands. They were shaking. Not from fear.

  From power.

  He could feel the eight years settling into his bones. His vision was sharper. His hearing more acute. When he moved, his body responded faster than before—not Time Dash yet, but approaching it.

  "I unlocked something," he said. "During the fight. Echo Strike. My punch hit twice."

  "Keeper-tier ability." Mira sat beside him. "It appears around the one-year mark for most Awakened. You jumped straight to it." She looked at his timer. "Eight years, Viktor. You have eight years. That's more than most Keepers will ever accumulate."

  "And Dominik has thirteen."

  "But you're not a Scavenger anymore. You're his equal. Or close to it." She pulled out her phone, checked the Grey Market. "The odds just shifted. Bookies are scrambling. Someone saw us leave ?i?kov Tower. They're putting together what happened."

  Viktor's phone buzzed. He pulled it out.

  Message from unknown number:

  Impressive, Viktor Krause. You killed Luděk Novotny. Eight years in one night. I knew you were special. - B

  "Who's B?" Viktor asked.

  Mira's expression darkened. "Bishop. Collector-level enforcer. She scouts talent for the Architect." She stood. "We need to leave. Now. If Bishop's watching you, things just got infinitely more complicated."

  They walked through Prague's empty streets. Dawn was breaking—golden light on Gothic spires, the city waking to another day.

  Viktor's timer read 2,980:14:08. Eight years.

  Thirty-six hours until he faced Dominik.

  But he wasn't afraid anymore.

  He was a Keeper now.

  And Keepers didn't run.

  They hunted.