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The old man's smile widened as we approached the stairwell.

"Iron Fist. It's been a while." His voice was calm and slightly cocky. . "What, no greeting for an old comrade?"

I glanced at Iron Fist, whose face had gone hard. His eyes narrowed to slits, and his jaw clenched tight enough to snap metal.

"Romero." Iron Fist's voice dropped an octave. "I thought you were dead."

"Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. You know how it is." The old man - Romero - chuckled and tapped his cane against the ground. "The world thinks what we want it to think."

I kept my stance loose, ready. The way Iron Fist's body had tensed told me everything I needed to know. This wasn't a friendly reunion.

Did this happens the first time or was this meeting the consequence of Iron Fist following me?

I couldn’t help but give a bitter smile. It seemed like whenever Iron Fist followed me, he somehow fell into some problems. Hopefully this time we don’t get killed.

"Who's he?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

Iron Fist didn't take his eyes off Romero. "Former Hunter. D-rank Telepath. Now he's with the SLF."

Just my luck. Another D rank. I cursed inwardly but tried to focus on the important matter.

"SLF?" The acronym sounded vaguely familiar.

"Supernatural Liberation Front," Romero answered, tipping his hat. "Though I prefer 'evolutionary vanguard.' Less political, more honest."

I'd heard of them before - a cult of fanatics who viewed Awakened abilities as divine gifts, signs of superiority. In a world where the system and skills were just another fact of life, these people treated them like religious artifacts, proof of their "chosen" status.

Romero straightened and adjusted his coat. "Not here for you, son. I'm here for Iron Fist."

Iron Fist crossed his arms. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."

"Not selling. Offering." Romero's eyes gleamed. "The Front is growing again. The Vipers have joined us. New blood, new vision. We need veterans, people who understand what the system truly means."

"The system is just an adaptation," Iron Fist growled. "Evolution's response to the Gates. Nothing more."

Romero laughed, a sound like cracking ice. "Still the same short-sighted fool. Skills are not just a product of evolution. They are divine gifts bestowed upon us by the Tower. We're superior to normals, destined to rule. The Tower itself is the representation of God - a ladder to ascension that only the worthy can climb."

I could feel something probing at my mind, like fingers trying to slip under a door. The old man was using his telepathy, trying to sift through my thoughts.

I focused my resistance, picturing steel walls slamming down around my consciousness. The probing sensation paused, then pressed harder. But to no avail.

Romero's eyebrows rose slightly. "Interesting. Your companion has impressive mental barriers for someone so... unremarkable."

“The dogs that bark the loudest are the most useless.” I shrugged.

My SSS resistance was apparently good for something other than just surviving contamination.

"He's not part of this," Iron Fist said after noticing the failed attempt. "Leave him out of it."

"Everyone's part of what's coming," Romero replied, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "The gates are changing. More frequent, more aggressive. The normals panic, but we understand - it's the planet's way of culling the weak. A new era is approaching."

Iron Fist's patience snapped. "Enough. We're leaving."

Romero sighed. "I didn't want to do this the hard way."

He raised his cane and tapped it once against the floor.

From the shadows behind him, four figures emerged. They wore matching black uniforms with silver trim. 

Their faces were masked, but their stances betrayed training. These weren't street thugs; they were trained fighters.

"Last chance, Iron Fist. The Front needs you. Your strength and more importantly, your connections." He looked at the door of the Black Market as he said this.

Iron Fist didn't bother answering. He simply cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing in the narrow space.

Romero nodded to his guards. "Take them. Alive, preferably."

The first attacker moved fast - faster than a normal human. His fist blurred as it shot toward Iron Fist's face.

But Iron Fist was ready. He caught the punch in his mechanical hand, twisted, and threw the man bodily into another attacker. Both went down in a tangle of limbs.

The other two split up, one heading for Iron Fist, the other for me.

Mine was a woman, tall, with a knife in each hand. The blades glinted with faint purple light - mana-charged.

"Nothing personal, kid," she said, voice muffled behind her mask. "Just business."

She lunged, faster than I expected.

I barely sidestepped the first blade, feeling it slice the air inches from my face. The second one was already coming in low, aiming for my gut.

"Freeze." The word escaped my lips before I could think.

[Pause activated.]

The world froze. The hourglass appeared in my vision, and pain flared behind my eye, but it was manageable.

The woman stood frozen mid-strike, her blade inches from my stomach. I could see each fiber of her uniform, the tension in her muscles, even the flecks of dirt on her boots.

I stepped to the side, positioning myself behind her. Then I reached into my bag and grabbed the shotgun I'd just purchased.

Time resumed.

Her blade cut through empty air where I'd been standing. She stumbled forward, off-balance.

"What the f—"

The butt of the shotgun slammed into the base of her skull. She crumpled to the floor.

I whirled around, checking on Iron Fist. He had his second attacker in a headlock, the man's face turning purple. The other two were getting back to their feet, shaking off the impact.

Romero watched it all with an amused expression. Then his gaze locked on me.

"Teleportation," he muttered. "No... something else."

I felt that probing sensation again, harder this time, like a drill trying to bore into my skull. My SSS resistance held firm like an impenetrable wall.

[Resistance engaged. Mental intrusion blocked.]

Romero's eyes widened in shock as he realized he truly couldn't breach my mind. His frustration was visible on his face.

"Interesting defenses for a nobody," he snarled.

I raised the shotgun, aiming at his chest. "I'm full of surprises."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. D rank he might be, but since he was a telepath, his physical defense should not be that impressive. Then his expression hardened.

Instead of retreating, I made a bold, potentially foolish move. I lowered my mental barriers just slightly - not enough to let him in fully, but enough to give him a glimpse of what I'd seen.

The void. The darkness between lives. The entities that lurked there, watching, waiting.

[The Silent Watcher grins as its presence is weaponized.]

Romero's face went slack with shock. He physically recoiled, stumbling back a step, his eyes wide with primal fear.

"What...are you?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

His moment of weakness gave Iron Fist the opening he needed. He slammed his mechanical fist into one guard's temple, dropping him instantly, then charged toward Romero.

But the telepath recovered quickly. His shock transformed into rage.

"Kill him!" he snapped, pointing at me. "Now!"

My attacker was back on her feet, woozy but determined. She came at me again, and this time I barely managed to raise the shotgun to block her knife.

Metal screeched against metal as the blade scraped along the barrel. I twisted, trying to wrench it from her grasp, but she was stronger than she looked.

"You're dead," she hissed.

I headbutted her, a desperate move that sent stars exploding across my vision. Her defense was higher than mine. Which, in hindsight, should have been pretty obvious. She staggered back more because of surprise than pain, cursing.

I raised the shotgun and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Nothing happened. Of course, it wasn't loaded. I'd just bought it. Fuck, why the hell was I acting like an idiot? The repeated Time Stops were affecting my ability to think.

She laughed and charged again.

I threw the useless weapon at her face. She ducked, but it gave me just enough time to grab the unicorn rod from my bag.

{Unhand me!}

It cursed at me, but I ignored the voice and swung it like a baseball bat. It connected with her ribs with a satisfying crack. She doubled over, wheezing.

Okay, this I did not expect. My strength was not that high. This rod was more useful than I anticipated.

I brought it down on her head without hesitation. She collapsed. Since I did not receive any notification, she was clearly still alive. 

I briefly considered stabbing her with the pointed part of the rod and finishing the job. A good enemy was a dead one, and who knew how much Karma this could give me?

Sadly for me and thankfully for her, before I could catch my breath, something hit me from behind. Pain exploded at the base of my skull, and I pitched forward onto my knees.

One of the other guards stood over me, holding what looked like a stun baton. Now I was tasting my own medicine, and I did not like it.

I rolled to the side as he brought the baton down again, narrowly missing my head. The rod clattered from my grip, still spitting insults.

"Enough of this," Romero said, stepping forward.

He flicked his wrist, and a pulse of invisible force slammed into me, pinning me against the wall. Telekinesis - another ability some high-level Telepaths developed.

Iron Fist was still fighting the other guards, but he was outnumbered. They'd backed him into a corner, one of them with a bleeding nose, another limping badly. But they kept coming.

"I didn't expect a mental defense like that," Romero said, approaching me slowly. "Not from someone like you."

I struggled against the telekinetic pressure but remained pinned. Blood trickled from behind my eye. I knew I wasn't going to win this fight - not today, not with my current stats.

"Whatever you are," Romero continued, his voice hardening, "whatever you showed me - I won't let it walk out of here."

I stared directly into his eyes, trying to use my skill.

Nothing happened.

I'd used too much energy already. I was drained. Blood gushed out instead. It was a wonder I wasn’t already dead, unlike last time. 

Did this mean mana affected this skill? Something to keep in mind for next time.

Romero laughed coldly. "Out of tricks?"

He gestured to one of his guards, who stepped forward with a sword drawn.

"I don't know what you are," Romero said, "but I'm not taking chances."

The guard raised his sword, positioning it at my throat. I stared defiantly at the blade, refusing to flinch or look away. If death were coming, I'd face it head-on.

I would remember them and next time, I would kill them.

The sword began its downward arc.

Whoosh!

Heat washed over me, so intense I thought my skin might blister. Light blazed through the corridor, turning the world blindingly bright.

The grip on me vanished. Someone screamed.

The guard who'd been about to execute me was on the ground, rolling frantically as flames engulfed his arm or what was remaining of it. The upper part had been entirely vaporized. His sword handle lay forgotten on the floor, its blade melting.

Romero was back on his feet, eyes wide with shock as he stared past me.

I turned.

Zhou Mei stood at the end of the hallway, her plague doctor mask pushed up to expose her mouth. She held her long pipe in one hand, and from its tip, a spiraling cone of fire was still dissipating into the air.

"I don't recall inviting the SLF to my establishment," she said, her voice casual, as if discussing the weather.

Romero snarled. "This doesn't concern you, Dragon. You should continue sleeping."

"Everything in my market concerns me." She took a step forward. "Now take your fanatics and go, before I decide to add your pelts to my collection."

Romero hesitated, weighing his options. Whatever mental calculation he made, it ended with him backing down.

"This isn't over," he said to Iron Fist. "The Front remembers its friends... and its enemies."

Zhou Mei simply chuckled, unimpressed.

He gestured to his guards. The burned one was helped to his feet by the others. They retreated slowly, dragging their unconscious comrade with them.

At the stairwell, Romero paused. "Think about what I said, Iron Fist. The Vipers have already chosen their side. You should, too, before it's too late."

Then they were gone, leaving only the smell of charred flesh and the sound of our ragged breathing.

Zhou Mei approached, adjusting her mask back into place.

"Eventful evening," she remarked. She looked at me, still on the ground, blood trickling from my eye. "Your teleportation trick is impressive, but clearly limited."

I wiped the blood away with my sleeve. "Thanks for the save."

She shrugged. "Don't mistake it for kindness. You still owe me an elixir."

Iron Fist helped me to my feet. I swayed slightly, still dizzy from the fight and the failed [Pause] attempt.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Been better."

Zhou Mei examined me critically. "While your Cheat seems powerful, you clearly have much to learn about using it effectively."

She took a long drag from her pipe, then exhaled a perfect smoke ring.

"Remember this, boy: no matter how special your ability is, you only have one life. Be careful with it."

I thought about correcting her - that I didn't, in fact, have just one life. But something told me that revealing too much would be dangerous.

Instead, I nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

She smiled thinly. "See that you do. Now, take your toys and go. I have a mess to clean up."

As we left the black market, weapons in hand, I couldn't help but feel that I'd just had my first real taste of what was waiting for me.

The necromancer. The Time Sovereign powers. The KP system.

Zhou Mei was right about one thing - I needed to be careful.

But careful didn't mean afraid.

And tomorrow, when the Gate opened, I'd be ready.