Micheal watched the footage in silence.
On the laptop screen, the grainy image showed Sol sitting on the bed, pale in the dim light. He picked up the glass cup, turned it in his hand once, then made a small, precise gesture.
Micheal frowned.
What is he—
The next second, his breath caught.
Sol pointed at the cup.
The space around it warped, a subtle ripple that looked almost like glass frosting over—then shattered inward.
Bang!
The cup disintegrated, shards blasting outward in a tight cone. Splinters of glass slammed into the far wall with terrifying speed, biting deep.
The recording froze on a frame of the wall, now glittering with embedded fragments.
"What…?"
The word slipped out of Micheal before he could stop it.
His heart thudded a little faster.
Another ability.
It had to be.
But according to that damned report, this kid only absorbed sunlight and pushed things a bit. No mention of shattering space and turning cups into shrapnel.
"When did he get a trick like that?" Micheal muttered.
Close range, sure. But the force was obvious. Ordinary people would be ripped apart by something like that.
For a moment he just stared, then snapped the laptop shut and pushed his chair back.
He had to ask.
---
He strode back to the bedroom and opened the door without knocking.
Sol jumped slightly, halfway through flexing his fingers.
"Kid," Micheal blurted, still half-breathless from what he'd seen, "I thought your ability was just sunlight absorption. So what was that move?"
He mimed the pointing gesture, eyes fixed on Sol.
Sol blinked.
Then realization hit.
"How do you know about that?" he asked, genuinely surprised.
Micheal scratched at his beard, looking a little sheepish.
"Sorry," he said. "I took a look at the file you had on you. And…"
He lifted the laptop.
"Also this."
"Surveillance?" Sol's brows drew together.
Micheal winced.
"As an ability user, you get paranoid," he said. "I've got cameras up for safety. Didn't plan on using them to spy on a kid."
He stepped over to the monitor, hit a few buttons, and powered it down.
"There," he said. "No more peeking at your privacy."
He turned back, expression serious again.
"But you still haven't answered me. About your powers."
Sol hesitated.
He couldn't exactly start listing "God of Light template" and "Celestial Finger" and "system panels" to a stranger he'd just met—Insurgency or not.
"You said it yourself," Sol replied after a beat, keeping his tone vague. "As an ability user, I have to be careful. So I hid some of what I could do."
Micheal's eyes widened a fraction.
Then he nodded slowly, a look of understanding settling in.
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So the kid had held back in the official tests.
Smart.
"Right," Micheal said. "That's the right call."
He gave a short, approving snort.
"Sunlight absorption and that weak push of yours are pretty underwhelming," he admitted. "But that new move's not bad. Not huge damage, but enough to keep you alive."
He didn't say what he was really thinking—that compared to the monsters he'd seen, it was still minor. Average at best.
No point crushing the kid.
With that, he turned and headed for the door.
"Get some food in you when you can," he said over his shoulder. "I've prepared a little something downstairs."
The door clicked shut behind him.
---
Sol let out a long, quiet breath.
Alone again, he forced himself to look inward.
Something in his body had changed.
"My energy… it's grown," he realized.
He probed the reserves of light within him and did a quick, instinctive count. With what he held now, he could fire Dark Projectile about sixteen times before running dry.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
More than before.
Then another thought struck him, sharper.
If his storage was increasing… what about his lifespan?
He pulled the panel up again.
The number still sat at 87 days.
But if his light reserves kept expanding—if his body grew stronger, more saturated with energy—could that number rise?
"Normally, sunlight helps me recover," he thought. "Just barely. But if I get strong enough… could my body fix itself?"
Hope, thin but real, sparked in his chest.
Maybe he didn't have to just watch the days tick down.
Maybe he could push back.
"Could I live longer by cranking my light energy as high as it can go?" he wondered.
He couldn't stop himself.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the heaviness in them, and staggered to the window. His fingers wrapped around the curtain and yanked it open.
Sunlight flooded the room.
Warmth spilled over his face, his chest, his arms. The glow soaked straight into his skin.
[Energy Points +1]
[Energy Points +1]
[Energy Points +1]
…
The notifications chimed in quick succession.
Sol's shoulders loosened.
Then his eyes slid past his reflection in the glass.
His brief relief died.
Out on the street, several uniformed enforcers and men in dark jackets with FBI lettering were moving door to door. They spoke to residents, showed photos, and stepped into homes uninvited.
They weren't giving up.
The few minutes he'd spent catching his breath had almost let him forget.
He was still prey.
If any of them looked up and noticed a strange boy soaking in sunlight at a second-floor window…
He dropped down fast, pressing his back against the wall under the sill, heart pounding.
With what he had now, facing that many trained agents would be hell. He might slip away. He might not.
He couldn't rely on "might."
"It looks like I need to get stronger. Fast," he told himself, jaw tightening.
He thought for a moment, then made a choice.
Spatial Shift first.
In a cramped environment with people closing in from all sides, being able to move was worth more than raw firepower.
"And this place isn't great for testing anything loud," he added silently. "No blowing holes in walls."
He focused.
[Spatial Shift Experience +1]
[Spatial Shift Experience +1]
[Spatial Shift Experience +1]
[Spatial Shift Experience +1]
…
His figure flickered around the small room—bedside, window corner, near the door, back to the center. Each hop only a few meters, but rapid, almost ghost-like.
If someone had walked in right then, the sight would have been nightmare fuel.
After a string of shifts, a wave of fatigue rolled through him. His inner reservoir had dropped by about half.
He paused, breathing hard.
A problem surfaced.
"If I keep burning all my internal energy to train," he realized, "the sunlight I absorb will go to refilling it—not to Energy Points."
The system's rule was clear now: light refilled his body first. Only when his reserves were full did extra energy turn into points on the panel.
He couldn't do both at once.
Either unlock new template progress… or level what he already had.
He bit his lip.
Then let it go.
"Power first," he decided. "Progress later."
He already had enough abilities to form a fighting kit. Unlocking more wouldn't help if everything stayed at level one.
He needed range. He needed mobility.
Especially Spatial Shift.
He went back to work.
[Spatial Shift Experience +1]
[Spatial Shift Experience +1]
…
He moved. Rested. Ate when Micheal called up. Slept in short bursts. Each cycle refilled his internal energy more quickly than before, especially with real food in his stomach and a safe roof overhead.
He noticed another pattern.
When he was fed and rested, his body refueled itself even without sunlight. Slowly, but enough to keep training going.
Time slid by in fragments of jumps and breaths.
Eventually, the sun climbed high.
By noon, sweat dampened Sol's shirt, and his legs trembled faintly from the constant exertion.
He checked the panel.
A familiar chime rang out.
[Ability: Spatial Shift (0/500) Level 2]
Finally.
He closed his eyes and let the new sensation settle in.
Space felt… looser.
He tested it immediately.
One thought—and he was ten meters away, at the far end of the room.
He reappeared, grinning despite his exhaustion.
From two meters to ten.
Five times the reach.
"That's more like it," he murmured.
In a city like this, ten meters was the difference between getting grabbed in a hallway and vanishing out of arm's reach. Between diving out of a kill zone or being pinned down.
With that much distance to play with, he'd be a lot harder to corner—at least until his energy ran dry.
He glanced back at the panel again and winced.
The experience bar now read 0/500.
The difficulty spike was brutal. Leveling Spatial Shift again in the next day or two would be nearly impossible at this pace.
His gaze slid down to Dark Projectile.
His only ranged attack.
If he pushed it to the next level, the bolts would likely fly farther. Hit harder. Tear through a wider path.
"I can probably manage that by evening," he calculated.
His expression cooled.
"When they show up at this building," he thought, "I'll give them something to remember."
He wasn't naive enough to think they'd wander around forever.
He'd already seen agents starting to enter houses, not just knock. It was only a matter of time before someone's questions got too close to Micheal's door.
He couldn't let that moment catch him unprepared.
He was about to dive into more Dark Projectile practice when a ripple went through him.
A strange shift in his internal energy.
He froze, eyes narrowing.
Something was changing.
