Zen finally reached the tallest building—his usual rest point after long patrols.

  He walked silently along the railing, keeping watch over the city, when his comms pinged.

  Ansar’s voice came through. “Surveillance network just went down approximately twelve hundred meters south of your location.”

  “Copy. I’ll check,” Zen replied, and the signal cut off.

  He paused, scanning the streets below one last time. Then, just as he was about to move, his senses flared.

  Something was coming.

  Fast—too fast.

  A projectile, tearing through the air at hypersonic speed.

  With only milliseconds to react, Zen twisted. The hypersonic round missed his head by centimeters—and tore into his right shoulder.

  The weight of his gear kept him grounded—barely.

  But the shield of his gear failed instantly. The outer protective coating shattered on impact, fragments spraying outward as the round punched through.

  It struck the hardened armor plate beneath and broke apart.

  The projectile didn’t penetrate.

  The force did.

  The impact slammed into him like a sledgehammer. His body absorbed it instinctively—and paid the price. Blood vessels ruptured. Muscle fibers tore apart.

  Zen bit back a shout, teeth clenched as he staggered and dropped low. Within seconds, blood began seeping through the hairline cracks in the damaged plating, spilling down his arm and splattering against the concrete.

  He ducked into cover immediately, staying still—counting seconds.

  No follow-up. The air around him went silent again.

  After half a minute, he slowly rolled onto his back, chest rising in heavy breaths.

  Moments ago, he had been standing at the railing, watching the city.

  Now he was bleeding out on concrete.

  He tried to clench his right fist. Agony flared—then nothing. The arm went dead weight.

  His HUD flashed crimson.

  SHIELD COMPROMISED.

  As the warning hovered before his eyes, his comms activated.

  “We just registered a massive vital spike,” Aurora said sharply. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really,” Zen replied, voice strained. “Bullet to the shoulder. I’m down and in cover.”

  A pause.

  “There’s likely a sniper south of my position. Scan from there and secure a radius of four thousand meters around me.”

  “Copy,” Aurora said. “Ansar is inbound. Sending Ravynne to sweep the perimeter. Please hold—”

  “Put them both on recon,” Zen cut in. “I’ll handle the wound.”

  Another pause—longer this time.

  “…Understood.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The line closed.

  Zen lay still, clutching his shoulder, staring up at the star-filled sky. He smiled as he braced himself for another round of pain to come.

  He inhaled—and began channeling elemental energy with his left hand.

  Pain exploded as torn tissue knit itself back together, violently rearranging beneath his skin.

  Then another surge—this time from his left arm. The strain of channeling so much energy was immense.

  Seconds stretched into eternity as the pain finally subsided. The wound sealed shut.

  Zen exhaled slowly and stayed where he was, waiting for clearance to move again.

  Eventually, he did. But the attacker slipped away.

  The memory faded. Rain drummed softly against the fabric of their umbrellas.

  Zen realized he had stopped speaking.

  Madoka stood in front of him in silence, staring at him, stunned as her mind processed everything that was happening behind her back.

  Then, her eyes filled with anger and hurt. Her grip on her umbrella tightened so intensely as if the handle was going to break.

  “You...” she breathed. “You were almost shot dead.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?!” she demanded. “What possible reason could you have to hide this from me?!”

  Suddenly—her eyes widened. Realization hit.

  “No… that doesn’t make sense. Why would you hide it from me?”

  Zen sighed in resignation. He knew that no matter how much information he withheld, she would eventually catch up.

  “Being predictable is a rookie mistake,” Madoka said. “But you’re not a rookie.”

  “You’re not predictable. Unless it was intentional,” she continued, staring him dead in the eyes. “You let the bullet hit you. You were fully capable of dodging it. Why?”

  Zen didn’t want to answer. But he had no choice. “Yes… I did.”

  “Explain,” she pressed.

  “Because it was a test,” he said.

  Madoka tilted her head. “...What?”

  “Ever since I started scouting here at night, someone—or some people—have been keeping an eye on me,” he replied.

  “Remember the abduction attempt from two nights ago?” Zen asked.

  “Yeah?” Madoka replied.

  “The report stated that it was for ‘ransom’ and no higher authority was at play,” he noted.

  Madoka raised an eyebrow. “...What’s your point?”

  “Well, I find it really hard to believe,” Zen replied. “There’s a very good chance that it was to test who responds and how fast.”

  “But,” he continued. “I wasn’t sure, until now.”

  “If there were no higher authorities involved in this, then why was there a sniper on me literally the next night after I interfered?” he explained.

  “That’s a good point,” she said, thinking everything through. “Wait a second. But then, why would you let the bullet hit you?”

  “To sneak an error into their equation,” he replied. “They think I’m injured. I’m not.”

  Madoka scoffed, not at the strategy, but at his recklessness. “You took a lethal shot and recovered at the cost of your lifespan. For what?! So that you could have a small, tactical advantage?!”

  “And that’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” he murmured, “and why I don’t want to tell Sayuri.”

  Madoka groaned in anger. “You idiot! That’s precious seconds of your life that you’ll never get back!”

  Zen sighed. “A few seconds were worth the trade.”

  That made her furious.

  “You’re hopeless. I’m not letting you make these choices alone,” she said as she stomped past him.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said out loud over his shoulder.

  She stopped and turned around. “And what do you want me to do?”

  “Sit back and watch as you recklessly chip away seconds of your life as they pool into minutes, hours, days, months, and years until...”

  She paused, pain evident in her voice. “Until there’s nothing left.”

  A tear traced down her right cheek.

  “You still wouldn’t stop, would you? You would do it again, even if it meant…”

  Zen stood there in silence. He had nothing to counter her statement. He knew she was right. And deep inside him, a spark of fear still lingered.

  He walked back to her until he was standing face to face with her once again.

  “You know, I always wondered. What if it did come true?”

  “I was afraid,” he said. “But then I realized. It will come true, eventually.”

  “So, you’re right. I would do it again,” he said, looking up at the dark, rainy sky.

  “Fear wouldn’t hold me back.”

  Then he looked back at her.

  “So tell me—do you want those precious seconds to go in vain?”

  That shocked her. Her jaw tightened. Her hand clenched into a fist. She looked like she was holding back a dam of emotions she would never let spill.

  His words had forced her to reconsider.

  Torn between protecting him and protecting innocent lives from a threat only he could neutralize, she weighed her options.

  After a moment of thought, she let out a shaky breath.

  “I hate you for doing this to me.”

  His right hand came up to wipe away the tear.

  “Hey, life isn’t fair to anyone,” he said gently. “It certainly isn’t to me.”

  Madoka had no choice but to accept that there was nothing she could do to stop him without collateral damage.

  “I’ll let it slide this time,” she said, anger still lingering. “I have my eyes on you.”

  “Guess I’ll be on my best behavior then,” Zen said with a subtle smile.

  “Now let’s go buy your notebooks—even though you never really planned to.”

  Madoka wiped her face and regained her composure. The two began walking side by side toward the park exit.

  “So… what are you going to do next?” she asked without breaking stride.

  Zen smirked.

  “Ask an old friend to lend a hand.”