Chapter 3: A Dangerous World
That night was eerily silent, unlike usual.
Ronan walked alone on the dimly lit street, his hands still slightly stained with blood. The streetlights cast long shadows across the sidewalk, flickering faintly due to the unstable energy in the air.
It had been half an hour since he left the abandoned building.
The city was still awake, but not in the peaceful way it used to be. Surveillance drones hovered in the sky, scanning for any anomaly. Patrol units in black, armor-clad uniforms guarded the streets, weapons in hand—always alert, always ready to act.
Ronan's footsteps came to a halt as two soldiers blocked his path.
Clad in military-grade gear, each held a pulse rifle casually, but their fingers hovered close to the triggers.
"Hey, where are you coming from?" one asked. "Didn't you hear the dimensional rift alert?"
Ronan lifted his gaze. Blank. Distant. "I'm sorry. I'll go home now."
The soldier looked him over. School uniform—ripped, bloodied. No shoes. His face was pale, expression empty, like he was already half a ghost.
He recognized the signs.
"...Bullied?" the man asked, voice softening slightly.