...
The final lesson of the evening, felt heavier than usual. Students slouched against desks, fiddling with their pens and papers while the teacher's voice droned on. Enark barely registered the words, his attention fragmented as his ears catching every subtle vibration in the room.
However, the mention of two words caught his attention
"Prime Abilities."
"…a unique power--that which every being possesses--," the teacher said, pacing slowly at the front, "one that manifests in three primary forms: Innate, Inverse, and, at the pinnacle… the Supreme."
Enark perked up in his seat. His mind, however, kept flicking back to the faint crackle of radio static tucked in his jacket, a reminder that danger was never far away.
"While we speak of three forms," the teacher continued, "the term Prime Ability is used generally to refer to all manifestations."
She paused, pointing to a diagram on the board depicting intricate lines of energy flowing through a stylized figure. "Last class, we discussed how Prime Energy bends to those who understand themselves and possess strong ambition. That is true—but listen carefully. A true need for power is required. Simple training can awaken a fraction of your energy, but without adversity… without necessity… you will never fully awaken your Prime Ability."
A hand shot up in the back of the room, her cat-like ears twitching with curiosity. "Miss Yamamoto, what's the difference between the forms?"
The teacher smiled, a faint hint of amusement in her eyes. "Ah, yes. Thank you for the question. I should have clarified."
"While every living being possesses Prime Energy, the energy—or rather, your aura—is unique. Genetics, control, quantity, potency… all of these matter. But the dominant factor is the state of your energy."
"Prime Energy exists in two polar states: Positive and Negative. Only one state is active at any given time." She gestured to the diagram again, emphasizing the split.
"That active state is your dominant state, and it fuels your Innate Ability. The opposite, your non-dominant state, fuels your Inverse Ability." She let the words hang for a moment, letting them settle. "Mastery over both states is not easy. It will not happen overnight. Only those who can wield both harmoniously will ascend to the final, ultimate form of their Prime Ability…"
Her voice dropped slightly, reverent, and the students leaned forward, caught in awe.
"The Supreme Ability."
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The bell rang for the end of all classes. Students rose with groans and complaints, shoving papers into bags. Kirsty elbowed past Enark, smirking slightly despite her usual irritation.
"Walk home?" she asked.
Enark hesitated, keeping his expression neutral. "Next time," he said quickly, shrugging as if brushing off her question.
Her brow furrowed. "Next time?" Her tone held suspicion. "You sure?"
"I'm sure," he replied evenly, sliding out of the classroom without waiting for her answer.
He felt it immediately—her presence following him, subtle footsteps weaving through the crowd, the faint shift of weight as she tried not to be noticed. Enark's senses honed in; he didn't turn, didn't acknowledge it. Just a small adjustment in stride and positioning, keeping her uncertain.
By the time the academy grounds thinned, Enark had already veered toward the alleys bordering District Seven. However, Kirsty was still on his trail. After turning a corner, Enark quickly sprinted up a nearby fire escape, hiding behind a few boxes to conceal himself as Kirsty walked by.
"Wait—where'd he go?" Kirsty muttered to herself, spinning in a circle. "Tch… he was just here. I'm sure of it."
A faint smile tugged at Enark's lips before he shifted again, silently climbing onto the rooftops and sprinting toward the reported disturbance.
In the distance, Enark could hear the Enforcers were present. Still investigating the scene while bodies cast in the shadow of the alley. The metallic tang of blood mixed with residual alchemical odors.
He crouched atop a nearby building, nostrils flaring subtly as he sniffed the air. A faint, unique scent cut through the chaos—layered beneath the other smells.
"I can hardly make it out beneath everything else," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "But there's a scent here… unique. Not any of the Enforcers or the bodies down there. Faint… but I can follow it."
His mind snapped into focus, every sense dialed in. The trail was narrow, but it existed. And at the end of it, he knew, would be the reason for the chaos—and the person he had to find.
-----------------------------
"GAHHH! Where did that idiot run off to?!" Kirsty muttered to herself, kicking at a loose stone in frustration.
"There's no way I could've lost him this fast…" she added, voice rising.
She spun on her heel, scanning the streets. "Unless… he knew I was following him and ran off on purpose!" she muttered sarcastically, punching the air with mock irritation. "Just what's got him so busy all of a sudden?"
Her steps faltered as the surroundings grew unfamiliar.
"Wait… where am I?"
Kirsty slowed, the narrow alleyway stretching before her, flanked by aging warehouses and grimy workshop doors. The scent of oil and rust hung in the air. Shadows shifted against the walls, and her eyes caught rough-looking men leaning against crates, watching her with calculating stares.
"Hey, check it out," one of the men said, nudging another. Their eyes locked onto her uniform's insignia, and a smirk spread across one of their faces.
"Are you lost, miss?" a voice asked from just behind her.
Kirsty whirled around. A man, no older than twenty-seven, stood there—tall, solidly built, eyes sharp and assessing. Something about him radiated danger.
"Sorry," Kirsty said quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. "I know my way around… it's actually my friend I was following. He got lost, I think."
Before she could take another step, one of the men at the warehouse barked.
"Hey boss!" he called. "That's Detective Landon's daughter!"
Her stomach dropped. Her father's name, meant to command respect, now felt like a warning bell in the wrong ears. She tensed, glancing between the men—none of them looked like they cared about decorum.
The 'boss' stepped closer, face inches from hers. "Whoa… really?" he said, eyes scanning her. "Yeah… you do look like him." His smirk widened.
"We've been waiting for a chance to get that guy off our backs," one of the men muttered, "but… with his daughter here…"
Before Kirsty could react, strong hands grabbed her from behind. She twisted, kicked, yanked—every instinct screaming—but their grip was too tight.
"HEL—!" she cried, the sound cut off as a hand pressed against her mouth.
The boss stepped forward, lifting her with one arm. "Don't waste your breath," he said, voice low but sharp.
With a single, devastating motion, his fist connected with her side, and everything went black.
Across the rooftops, Enark's focus never wavered from the scent trail he had been tracking since evening, but now something else tangled with it—a new, sharper scent. A familiar scent.
He froze.
Kirsty.
Behind the circular blue lenses of his shades, his eyes narrowed. Muscles coiled as instinct drove him forward silently along the rooftops.
A muffled shout before a sharp crack echoed from the distance.
"That voice!" Enark muttered to himself, heart hammering. "No doubt—that's Kirsty!"
A wave of panic collided with guilt. "What the hell happened? I thought she'd gone home! SHIT—SHIT!"
The scent trail led him to a single warehouse.
"She's in there… but there are others too… twelve," he thought grimly.
Regret twisted in his gut. "This is my fault. I should've just gone home with everyone… leave the tracking for later."
He yanked familiar black clothing from his bag, sliding into it with practiced speed.
"I can't let her pay for this… No, I can't let anyone else pay," he growled under his breath.
The blindfold came up, tight around his head.
The figure in black paused and inhaled sharply
"Hang on… just a bit longer, Kirsty. I'm going. "
"To save you!"