He stood before the bar, feeling like a supernatural entity descended upon the earth to deliver judgment. His gaze fell upon the two men directly in front of him, their faces instantly recognizable. They were the ones he'd been following.

  “Four,” he confirmed mentally. “Two here, one on the left corner with a woman, and another on the right, drinking.”

  The two in front were hulking guards, yet he recognized the one on the left—a man who had once worked on his father’s property. Power was the name of the game, and in that moment, he was its undeniable master, a boy operating on an entirely different plane.

  In a flash, the big man on the right was cleanly cut, his windpipe severed. Blood gushed like rain from a rooftop. The second man reacted with a shout, blade flashing toward the boy’s chest. But it was a losing game from the start. An instinctive half-step, a slip past the guard, and the dagger slid home. Another body dropped.

  “Boys! We got a visitor! Drinks on me to whoever kills him!” a man roared from the furthest corner, easing into his seat.

  The boy pushed the door open softly, revealing the armed crowd poised for a welcome. “Useless,” he thought, smiling as his eyes met theirs. His blue gaze was as clear as daylight yet colder than death. A shiver rippled through the room, that primal sensation of being stalked—not by an animal, but by a monster wearing the skin of a boy.

  This was it, the big one. Twenty of them—men and women who had fought and killed before—yet in his presence they felt as if they faced more enemies than they could count. He moved like a ghost, his senses a perfect radar. A blink was all it took to slip past a strike aimed at his kidney. His borrowed dagger and sword cut the air like brushes on a canvas, painting the bar with blood.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Before long, the massacre left only two. The man in the corner met his stare at last—and in that cold silence, he understood the truth.

  “I feel on top of the world,” the boy said, a smile that chilled more than it comforted. “Every time I blink, I own it.” His expression did not change. “Thank you. What you’ve done has given me a thrill. Now it’s time for me to repay your debt.”

  The man rushed forward, but the boy was quicker. A shift of stance, a thrust—and the dagger sank into his right eye.

  “That’s what you did, isn’t it? To my mom, for looking out for my father!” His words were half-memory, half-curse.

  He carved with cruel precision—an eye, fingers, even his nose. Piece by piece, until the man was no longer recognizable.

  “I’m having fun,” he confessed, voice trembling with dark satisfaction. “But you’re dying too quickly. You didn’t even try your best. That’s the difference—you failed, but me? I did very well.”

  He straightened, staring down at the corpse. Silence.

  And then—something shifted. The air grew heavy.

  A man materialized, seemingly out of nowhere. He appeared in his mid-twenties, white hair brushing his shoulders, his presence bending the flow of movement itself. Of average height, perhaps slightly taller, he wore white clothes beneath a long black coat. Eight rings glinted on his fingers, four on each hand.

  At first, he did not seem threatening, but with every step, an unsettling aura pressed down on the room.

  “Who are you?” the boy asked.

  “A friend or foe—depending on your answer,” came the reply. The man stepped closer. “But before you answer, consider the truth. One: you have much to learn. Two: though powerful for a boy who isn’t a Wonder, you can only do so much alone. And three—and this is important—power draws attention. People. Creatures. They’ll come for you.”

  He paced the blood-soaked floor. “So—make the correct decision.”

  Acting on instinct, guided by the man’s shifting presence, the boy decided. “I’ll go with you. But only on one condition: tell me your name.”

  “Leon,” the man said with a smile. “Leon Heart. But only those as strong as me—or close—earn the privilege of using my full name.”

  He stopped, his gaze settling on the boy. “Now, boy—good night.”

  A touch brushed his shoulder. The air grew heavier still.

  The world darkened, and the boy fell into a forced sleep.