NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 5: Echoes in the Dark
Chapter 5: Echoes in the Dark
The city pulsed with life as neon lights flickered across rain-slicked streets. The MC walked with the lazy confidence of someone who knew no one could touch him—unless they had a death wish or a very poor sense of self-preservation. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, his mind churned—breaking down every detail of his encounter with the masked stranger.
Energy manipulation. Controlled. Focused. And now, his.
He hadn't perfected it yet, but the mechanics were sinking in. The subtle wrist rotation. The pulse of intent. If they could do it, so could he.
But a whisper of unease lingered. He could take any ability he observed—but what if there were things he wasn't meant to know? Was there a limit? And if not, what would it make him in the end?
He slipped into a dimly lit diner, the faint hum of an old jukebox filling the air. It was the kind of place no one asked questions. Perfect for thinking.
Sliding into a booth, he let his senses stretch out. Conversations murmured at the edges of his perception—a couple arguing softly in the corner, a waitress humming under her breath, and at the counter, someone far too quiet.
His gaze sharpened.
A man in a worn leather jacket stirred a cup of coffee. Ordinary at a glance. But the stillness in his frame was wrong—too composed. Like a coiled spring waiting to snap.
Interesting.
The MC shifted slightly, testing the air. There was no shimmer like with the energy manipulator, but something was off. Something about the way the man moved—or rather, the way he didn't.
His curiosity stirred. He rose casually, moving toward the counter as if deciding to order something new. The man didn't flinch, didn't glance up, but his muscles tensed ever so slightly.
"Coffee any good, or is it the kind that makes you question your life choices?" the MC asked, leaning against the counter with a smirk.
The man took a slow sip before answering. "Depends who you ask." His voice was rough, like gravel underfoot. "You here for a reason, or do you just like poking bears?"
The MC smiled faintly. "I like seeing what makes people tick."
For a moment, the man was silent. Then, with a quiet sigh, he set the cup down. "And what do you think you see?"
"Someone who knows how to hurt people," the MC replied easily. "And someone trying real hard not to be noticed."
The man chuckled low and cold. "Takes one to know one."
The tension cracked the air like static. Neither of them moved, but it felt like a fight could break out at any moment—sharp and brutal.
"You're too curious for your own good," the man said quietly. "Curiosity gets people killed in this city."
The MC tilted his head, echoing the words he'd heard earlier. "Maybe. But not tonight."
He turned to leave, the weight of the man's gaze following him. But as he pushed the door open, the man called out softly, "Next time you follow someone like me, make sure you really want to know what you'll find."
The night swallowed the MC as he stepped outside. But he didn't go home. Not yet.
A faint ripple passed through his senses—like something was watching. Not a person. Something else.
His breath hitched for a moment. It wasn't paranoia—he could feel it. An unseen presence, lingering on the edges of his awareness, like the echo of footsteps just out of sync with reality.
He clenched his fists, heart pounding faster than he liked to admit. His ability had always been a gift—an advantage. But now, he wondered if he'd drawn the wrong kind of attention.
For the first time, a sliver of doubt cut through his confidence. What if his ability wasn't a gift? What if it was bait?
He turned down a side street, the noise of the city fading behind him. His mind worked fast—scanning for patterns, irregularities. He couldn't shake the sense that someone—or something—was deliberately testing him.
He passed a flickering streetlamp when the sensation intensified. Cold. Electric. Like the air before a storm. A shadow shifted across the alley, and his instincts screamed at him to move.
Without thinking, he spun—just in time to dodge a flash of motion.
A blade buried itself in the brick wall where his head had been moments before.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he scanned the darkness. No ordinary thug. This was a professional.
"Who sent you?" he called out, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins.
Silence. Then, a voice—soft and mocking—drifted from the shadows. "You ask too many questions."
The MC's mind sharpened, analyzing the movement, the angle of the attack. Whoever they were, they knew how to kill cleanly. Efficiently. But they didn't know him.
A smile tugged at his lips. "Good thing I like answers."
In a blur, he closed the distance, his body adapting mid-motion. The attacker moved fast—but he was faster.
A sharp clash echoed through the alley as he caught their wrist, twisting just enough to disarm them. The knife clattered to the ground.
The figure tried to break free, but the MC had already memorized their moves. He shifted his grip, pinning them against the wall with effortless precision.
"You're not the first to try," he murmured with a smirk. "But hey, maybe you'll be the first to actually make it interesting. Fingers crossed."
The attacker struggled for a moment before going still. Beneath the hood, their face was hidden, but the tension in their body betrayed frustration—and fear.
"I'll find out who you work for," he promised. "And when I do, they'll regret sending you."
The figure's breath hitched, but they said nothing. With a final twist, the MC released them, stepping back as they vanished into the shadows.
The city's noise crept back in, but the tension remained.
If someone was sending professionals after him, it meant he was on the right path—or dangerously close to something bigger.
Either way, he wasn't done being curious. Not by a long shot.