Chapter — Silent Theft and Blue Light.
Luke didn't return to Japan immediately.
He hovered high above the Pacific, suspended between sky and sea, the day wind tearing past him with a, sharp edge. Below him, the ocean stretched endlessly, bright and indifferent. For a few seconds, he remained still—neither moving forward nor turning back.
Not yet.
In the United States, the sun still ruled the sky. Streets were alive. Cameras watched. People moved without fear, unaware of how fragile the order around them truly was.
Too many eyes.
Too much movement.
Now stealing is too risky I have to came here at night.
Luke turned back.
When he returned to Japan, the sky was still wrapped in darkness. The familiar city lights welcomed him in silence as he landed softly on the rooftop of his apartment building. No alarms. No witnesses. Just concrete, metal, and the quiet hum of sleeping lives.
No one noticed.
No one ever did.
He checked the time on his phone.
3:40 a.m. JST.
Luke slipped inside, changed into his normal clothes, and lay down on his bed. The ceiling felt closer than usual, as if pressing down on him. Sleep refused to come.
His mind replayed the same images again and again—the reinforced glass case, the gloves resting inside, the shopkeeper's dismissive voice.
Rules… access… rank.
He stared upward, unmoving.
Just a few more hours.
---
Same day
At 4:00 p.m., Luke left Japan again.
This time, the Pacific reflected a burning orange sky as the sun dipped toward the horizon. But agian it slowly turn dark as he go ckoser to USA .Luke flew far above commercial air routes, suppressing his aura so tightly it felt like holding his breath for hours. Any mistake—any leak—and someone would notice.
The gloves would still be there. Limited stock didn't mean immediate demand. He understood that much.
When New York came into view, the city had changed its face.
Dark windows. Empty streets. Sleeping towers.
2:07 a.m.
Perfect.
Luke landed silently on a rooftop across from the shop. He wore the same dark outfit—hood drawn low, mask concealing his face. He observed patiently, counting seconds, scanning reflections in glass and metal.
No pedestrians.
No police sirens.
Only distant engines and flickering streetlights.
He moved.
Dropping into the alley beside the shop, Luke made no sound. Even his breathing felt controlled. He stood before the reinforced window, eyes locked onto the gloves resting behind the glass like forbidden relics.
One strike.
He raised his hand.
This time, there was no hesitation.
A narrow pulse of aura—precise, restrained, carefully measured—shot forward.
Crack.
The glass collapsed inward, not exploding but folding under its own failure. Luke slipped inside instantly, heart steady, senses sharp.
No alarm screamed.
The shop relied on authority, regulation, and the belief that no one would dare break the rules.
Luke crossed the floor and reached the counter.
He picked up the gloves.
The moment his fingers touched them, the aura inside him surged violently—like a storm recognizing its missing core. His muscles tensed as power rushed against the restraints he'd built inside himself.
Luke clenched his jaw.
Calm.
He pulled out a small envelope and placed it on the counter. Inside lay the exact printed amount—no excess, no traceable pattern.
On top rested a neatly printed note.
> I am an Aura Master.
I am taking these gloves.
I do not want to display my identity.
No handwriting.
No fingerprints.
Luke turned and vanished into the night before the cameras could even refocus.
---
By the time he returned to Japan, darkness had fallen again.
7:02 p.m. JST.
Luke entered his apartment quietly. The living room light was on, warm and ordinary.
"You're late today," his mother said from the kitchen. "Where did you go?"
He paused—only for half a second.
"Went out for a walk," Luke replied evenly. "Lost track of time."
She studied him briefly, then sighed. "Dinner's already over. I'll heat something if you want."
"It's fine," he said. "Not hungry."
Luke walked down the hallway, entered his room, and locked the door behind him.
The moment the lock clicked, his shoulders finally relaxed.
From beneath his jacket, he pulled out the gloves.
For a long moment, he simply stared at them.
Finally.
Sitting on his bed, Luke slid the gloves onto his hands—slowly, carefully.
The instant the fabric touched his skin—
FLASH.
A blinding blue light erupted, flooding the room like a lightning strike trapped indoors. The air vibrated violently. Objects rattled. The walls trembled just enough to be felt.
Luke couldn't see.
But he felt it.
The crushing pressure inside his chest—present since the system appeared—began to loosen, unraveling like chains being cut one by one.
His breathing steadied.
The aura obeyed.
As the light slowly faded, Luke opened his eyes.
Something hovered in front of him.
Tiny.
Faintly glowing.
Not text. Not light.
What… is that?
The room fell silent.
And whatever had appeared… was watching him.
---
End of Chapter