It felt like a string of bad luck. Zelpher murmured as he recall to himself how he got a paper cut while organizing files, nicked his finger against a stack of folders — yet it barely bled. The cut closed up almost as soon as it opened.
He stumbled and banged his foot against the corner of the counter — a jolt of pain that normally would linger for hours — but within minutes, it was gone, fading away without a bruise.
Later, a kid slipped nearby, dropping his juice in a small orange pool across the tile floor. Zelpher slipped, fell hard, bracing himself with his hands — but instead of a sprained wrist or a throbbing side, he stood up unhindered, his body already healing, knitting itself back together.
He tried to pretend he hadn't noticed — tried to dismiss it as pure luck or adrenaline — but deep down, something was changing.
While managing the cashier, Zelpher kept his hands busy, turning cans forward, restocking a small stack of magazines, and quietly adding up the total for a customer.
Across from him, a flat-screen TV hung on the wall above the neighboring register — its volume turned down but its subtitles visible.
He glanced up casually — then his grip faltered, nearly dropping a can — as a bold headline filled the bottom of the broadcast:
BREAKING: ATTACK ON MILITARY LAB LAST NIGHT — NO CASUALTIES REPORTED
Zelpher recognized the building immediately — the lab where he had been working just hours before — the very place he'd clocked out from at 9 p.m. the previous night.
If he'd stayed even a little longer… he might have been caught up in whatever chaos had ensued.
He turned up the volume just a bit, straining to listen alongside a few nearby shoppers. The reporter's voice was firm but cautious.
The camera panned upward, offering a dramatic aerial view of the facility. The fence was a mess of twisted metal, the main entrance a gaping hole in the side of the structure. The reporter continued, "We believe it was the Dominion of Ascension that orchestrated this attack. The chaos resulted in extensive structural damage, but — luckily — there are no reports of casualties. At least, none that we know of, as the military has kept journalists from accessing the site."
Zelpher forced his expression back to neutrality as a customer placed a box of cereal on his counter, oblivous to the rush of disbelief, nervousness, and guilt that gnawed at him from within.
He turned his attention back to scanning the item's barcode — trying to pretend everything was fine — even as a silent alarm grew in his mind: something much bigger was underway.
The newscaster's voice continued in the background, a fleeting reminder that danger was closing in — whether he was ready for it or not.
"Witnesses near the laboratory report a large explosion just after midnight, followed by sustained gunfire and what some describe as… people soaring through the air, employing advanced tech and supernatural abilities."
The camera cut to a shaky phone video from a nearby rooftop. The view was obscured by clouds of dust and debris, but a group of hooded figures darted across the scene — each wearing black hooded garments marked by a sinister, purple emblem: the crest of the Dominion of Ascension.
Zelpher tightened his grip on the side of the counter.
He knew, deep down, that he just lost his night shift Job — and something much bigger was underway.
Mr Diego the manager entered the store, his aura and presence as commanding as ever.
He made his way toward Zelpher with a small smile. "Hey, kid. How are you holding up?"
Zelpher let out a shaky breath. "Trying to survive."
Diego chuckled quietly. "You're as funny as ever."
Zelpher liked him — liked him a great deal, much like a father. They didn't talk much, but there was a bond forged by loyalty, kindness, and understanding that didn't need many words.
Diego paused, then said, "Aren't you turning eighteen soon?"
Zelpher nodded. "Yes, sir."
"That means you'll be taking the assessment soon — to see if you're an Evolver or not."
"That's right."
Diego placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Even if you're not… you'll always have me."
Zelpher forced a small, sardonic smile. "Yeah, yeah… I know, sir."
Diego might not be an Evolver, but he was a man whom most — if not all — Evolvers in the city, and even outside it, respected… or feared.
Such was the power of money — and of a person who knew how to use it.
---
[Flashback: The Laboratory Attack — Midnight]
The night was cold, and the two guards at the gate — Jack and Paul — were battling their own fatigue.
Jack tapped Paul on the shoulder. "Man, this work is really stressful."
Paul sighed. "Whining already? We knew what we were signing up for. Just tough it out."
"That's true… but we aren't even Evolvers, you know." Jack paused, reluctantly adding, "And there hasn't been a single attack since the place opened. Why don't we ease up a bit… hang out in the gate office?"
Paul stiffened. "Don't jinx us, Jack."
Jack let out a nervous laugh. "Alright, I'm heading in to grab a beer. Want me to bring you one?"
"Okay… but just one. We can't afford to get drunk on the job."
"One beer drunk? Come on." Jack turned and disappeared into the small gatehouse.
Left alone, Paul tightened his grip on his pulse rifle. He exhaled quietly. He's right… we haven't been attacked, and the pay's not bad…
He forced the thought away with a shake of his head. What am I thinking? Even if something were to happen, we've got two hundred soldiers, armed and ready. We're fine… we're fine…
Minutes later, a man wearing a brown hood glided down through the air, descending slowly toward the gate — his face obscured by shadow.
Paul tightened his grip on his pulse rifle and banged on the gate. "Intruder! Hit the alarm!"
Jack, still holding his beer, rushed back toward the alarm console and pressed it. The alarm began to blare, piercing the silence of the night.
He stumbled outside, following Paul's aim upward with his own weapon. His grip faltered, and the beer slipped from his hand, shattering upon the pavement.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Paul called up, his voice firm, battling a growing nervousness.
The hooded man paused in mid-descent, letting a sinister grin slowly appear from beneath his hood — a silent answer that made their blood run cold.