When the god Gives You an OP System, You Go Wild

Chapter 7: Playing with Shadows

Aryan leaned back against a warm, sunlit wall, balancing on the edge of a rooftop. The city sprawled beneath him—noisy, chaotic, and brimming with distractions. Yet, amidst the humdrum, a nagging sensation prickled at the edges of his awareness. Someone was watching him. Again.

He stretched his arms behind his head and smirked. "You'd think they'd learn to be more subtle."

A shimmering copy flickered into existence beside him, wearing the same lazy smile. "Maybe they like the view," it quipped. "Can you blame them?"

"Flattering," Aryan mused. "But if they're that curious, I should give them a show."

He stood, deliberately slow, before taking a casual step off the roof's edge. For anyone watching, it would look like a careless slip—until his body dissolved mid-air and reappeared on the opposite building in a burst of silver sparks.

"Smooth," the copy remarked, teleporting beside him without the dramatic flair. "Think they fell for it?"

Aryan tilted his head toward the shadowed figure crouched three rooftops away. Their outline was clearer now—lean, deliberate, and much too patient.

"Still there," he sighed. "Persistent little stalker."

His copy snickered. "Why not mess with them a bit?"

"Messing is what I do best." A glint of mischief sparked in his eyes.

He sent a copy sprinting toward the observer—loud, clumsy, and just obvious enough to seem real. As expected, the figure shifted, tracking the decoy with impressive speed.

"Hmm," Aryan muttered. "Fast reflexes. I almost respect them."

His real body, meanwhile, flickered unseen behind the observer. "Boo," he whispered, mere inches from their ear.

The figure jerked and spun, a blade flashing from their sleeve. Aryan leaned back just enough to avoid the strike, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Whoa there—hostile much?" He grinned, his heart drumming with excitement. "I was just saying hi."

The masked figure hesitated but didn't lower the weapon. A voice, low and sharp, cut through the tense air. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"Isn't that half the fun?" Aryan quipped. "Besides, you seem to enjoy watching. Should I start charging for the entertainment?"

The figure didn't respond, but their stance shifted—less aggressive, more calculating. Interesting.

Aryan circled them slowly, hands clasped behind his back. "So, who's sending you? Another mysterious guild? An overprotective babysitter?" His tone was light, but his senses were razor-sharp, tracking every twitch.

"You're becoming a problem," the figure said coolly. "They want to know your limits."

Aryan laughed under his breath. "Joke's on them—I'm still figuring that out myself."

Without warning, the copy he'd left behind lunged from the side, tackling the observer. They reacted instantly, twisting free—but not before Aryan flicked his fingers and sent another copy bursting into the air, raining sparks like a miniature firework.

"Oops." He chuckled. "Did I distract you?"

The observer hissed under their breath, clearly unimpressed. But Aryan could see the cracks forming in their composure.

He leaned closer, his voice softer now. "If your bosses want answers, tell them this—I'm not here to play by their rules. And if they keep sending watchdogs, well..." His smirk widened. "I'll keep playing."

The figure stepped back, melting into the shadows. Aryan didn't follow. He'd made his point.

The copy reappeared beside him, shaking its head. "You're pushing your luck, you know."

"Luck's just another game," Aryan replied, watching the last trace of the observer disappear into the night. "And I'm very good at winning."

A sudden chill brushed against his neck, and he glanced upward. Another shadow flitted across a distant rooftop—a different figure, watching from farther away. A little more careful. A little more cautious.

"Looks like the fan club's growing," the copy said, following his gaze.

Aryan's lips curved into a wry smile. "Let them watch. The more they see, the less they'll understand."

He turned back toward the city, stretching his arms with a satisfied sigh. Whatever the next move was, he was ready.

His gaze lingered on the rooftops as the wind stirred his hair. There were layers to this game, and the observers were only scratching the surface. Whoever was pulling their strings would soon realize—he wasn't someone they could control.

With a snap of his fingers, another copy burst to life, dancing along the edge of the roof. "Maybe I should leave them a puzzle," he mused aloud. "Something to keep them up at night."

The copy laughed, spinning playfully. "A little mystery never hurt anyone."

Aryan grinned. "Unless they're bad at solving it."

As the city lights flickered below, he vanished from the rooftop in a shimmer of silver sparks. But somewhere out there, he knew—they were still watching.

And that only made things more fun.