Mark stood in the dimly lit alley, the shadows from the towering buildings swallowing most of the weak streetlight glow. His eyes were locked on the cloaked figure a few paces ahead, the man standing motionless with his back to him.

Mark’s voice cut through the stillness, calm but laced with authority. “You’ve been lurking near the Cole residence. What’s your purpose?”

The figure turned slowly, deliberate in his movements. His face was concealed behind a featureless mask, and when he spoke, the distorted tone from his voice adjuster made it impossible to discern his identity.

“Purpose?” the man replied, his tone flat, almost mechanical. “Perhaps… the opposite of yours.”

Mark’s jaw tightened as he looked for any signs of danger. The air felt heavy between them as they sat in silence.

Finally, the figure moved and reached into his cloak. Mark’s stance shifted slightly, his muscles coiled, ready to react. Instead of a weapon, the man produced a small folded piece of paper and flicked it toward Mark. The paper spun through the air like a shuriken, its edges sharp enough to cut.

Mark snatched it mid-flight, his eyes narrowing as he opened it. On the paper was a hand-drawn map marked with a location just outside the city.

“What’s this?” Mark demanded, his tone edged with skepticism.

The figure tilted his head, the distorted voice carrying an unsettling calm. “The LaRues are planning something deadly. They want to create a massive army of Ascendants—artificially.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed further, his grip tightening on the paper. “Impossible. No one can become an Ascendant without forming the core.”

The figure seemed to sense Mark’s doubt and took a deliberate step forward. “That’s where you’re wrong. This project… it’s already 75% successful. Professor Jermaine is leading it.”

Mark’s heartbeat quickened, though his expression remained neutral. The name alone was enough to send a chill through him.

“Beware, Mark,” the figure added, his voice almost a whisper now. “What’s coming… may destroy everything.”

Before Mark could say anything, the figure stepped back into the shadows and disappeared as if he had never been there. Mark looked around the alley, but it seemed like the figure had melted into the night.

Mark stared at the paper in his hand, thinking quickly. The map was crudely drawn but clear enough to identify a location—a remote spot just outside Novan City. His eyes flicked to the alley where the figure had vanished, the question gnawing at him.

How did he know my name?

The figure’s distorted voice and enigmatic warning replayed in his mind. There was a part of Mark that wanted to dismiss it, to chalk it up to paranoia or a ploy to distract him from his duties. But the mention of the LaRues and Professor Jermaine… struck too close to the truth.

He carefully folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket. "It's a trap," he whispered to himself. “It has to be.”

Yet doubt lingered. The figure’s knowledge of the LaRues’ plans, even if partially fabricated, wasn’t something any random operative could conjure up. It hinted at access to information that shouldn’t have been available to outsiders.

And then there was the 75% success rate. That specific detail gnawed at him.

Artificial Ascendants? Even with Jermaine’s expertise, that’s a stretch.

Mark’s instincts warned him against acting recklessly. If this was a trap, he might be walking into an ambush that could endanger his mission and put Ethan and the Cole family at risk.

But if it wasn’t a trap, and there was any truth to what the figure had said, the outcomes could be disastrous.

He leaned against the wall, feeling the cool brick on his back as he took a deep breath. His mind worked through the possibilities, weighing his options.

"I need to discuss with the others."

He couldn’t take this lightly. The risks were high, and the consequences were serious. But one thing was clear—whether it was a trap or not, he couldn’t afford to ignore it.

***

Ethan excused himself from the table, smiling at the playful chatter of the twins and the light banter between Jordan and Jessica. “I’ll be back in a bit—just need to hit the restroom,” he said casually.

Nobody questioned him as he stepped away. He needed air, not because of the lively dinner but because the warmth of the gathering brought a strange weight to his chest.

The gathering was perfect—a rare moment of joy amidst the chaos his life had become. But the perfection only amplified the unease in his chest. The more he cherished the moment, the more a strange weight pressed down on him as if warning him it could all vanish in an instant.

Ethan slipped outside, feeling the cool night air brush against his skin. He let out a long breath, his hands slipping into his pockets. The four Ghosts—Ezra, Yamal, Steve, and Maya—were stationed discreetly, keeping watch as he had instructed. He had ordered them to keep his family safe, but one shadow still lingered behind him: Maya.

She could not allow Ethan to be alone.

Making his way to the rooftop, Ethan let the quiet embrace him. The city lights sprawled out below, a dazzling contrast to the darkness of the sky. Novan City looked so calm from up here; its chaos was muted by distance.

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“Quite the view, isn’t it?”

The voice startled him. Ethan turned sharply, his senses immediately on high alert. A man stepped forward from the shadows at the edge of the rooftop.

He was tall and composed, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit that exuded authority. His presence was almost magnetic, but it was the man’s name that sent a chill down Ethan’s spine.

Lucien LaRue.

Ethan recognized him instantly. After the gunshot incident on the way to Jessica’s hometown, he had done his research. Meeting him now, unannounced and uninvited, was anything but a coincidence.

Lucien stepped closer, his polished shoes silent against the rooftop floor. “Ethan Cole,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. His voice was friendly, but it had a sharp tone, like a hidden knife. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Ethan didn’t move to take the handshake. His sharp eyes studied Lucien, his instincts screaming caution. “Lucien LaRue,” he said evenly, his tone neutral but carrying weight. “Can’t say I expected to see you tonight.”

Lucien chuckled softly, the sound devoid of any real humor. “You know who am I?” His smile widened, though his eyes remained unreadable. “Good. That’ll save us some time.”

Before Ethan could respond, he caught a subtle movement in the shadows. Maya was nearby, just as he’d expected. She had sensed Lucien’s presence, and now she was moving to intercept. But two figures stepped into her path—Mike and Taison.

“Long time, Maya,” Taison said with a smirk, his tone casual but firm. “Still sneaking around in the shadows, I see.”

Maya’s sharp eyes flicked between the two men, her body tensed for action. “And you’re still playing watchdogs for the wrong people,” she shot back, her voice low but edged with disdain.

Mike raised a hand in a calming gesture. “No need for trouble, Maya. You know how this works. Stand down, and no one gets hurt.”

Maya’s jaw tightened, her hand hovering near her weapon. She looked at Ethan, feeling she should step in, but she knew the two men in front of her well. They were serious.

On the rooftop, Ethan finally shook Lucien’s hand. His grip was strong, and he kept his eyes on Lucien. “You’ve got my attention. What do you want?”

Lucien’s smile deepened, his expression unreadable. “Relax, Ethan. I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I simply wanted to have a conversation.”

Ethan’s muscles stayed tense despite Lucien’s casual demeanor. “Funny. People who say that usually bring trouble with them.”

Lucien laughed lightly, stepping back and gesturing toward the city skyline. “I admire your caution, Ethan. It’s a rare trait these days. But trust me, this is purely a friendly meeting. For now.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “For now?”

Lucien turned back to face him, his expression softening but still calculated. “You’re an intriguing man, Ethan. Someone with your... talents doesn’t come along often. I’d hate for us to start off on the wrong foot.”

Ethan crossed his arms, his tone unwavering. “You’ve already taken the first step onto the wrong foot the other day and now, by being here.”

Lucien’s smile never faltered, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper. “Direct, no-nonsense. That’ll serve you well in the days to come.”

Ethan didn’t respond, his mind racing as he tried to gauge the man’s intentions. Lucien LaRue was playing a game, and Ethan knew he needed to tread carefully.

From the shadows, Maya’s sharp eyes never left the scene, even as Mike and Taison subtly blocked her path. She gritted her teeth, muttering under her breath, “What are you up to, Lucien?”

"You have potential, Ethan," Lucien began, his tone smooth and almost fatherly. "But potential needs direction. Without it, you’re just flailing in the dark."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral but curious. "Direction? That’s generous coming from someone like you."

Lucien’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. "I’m offering you more than advice, Ethan. I’m offering survival. Join me, and you will not just survive—you will thrive. Go against me, and... you can guess what will happen."

Ethan tilted his head and said, "Thrive sounds good, but what's the catch? Will I get a membership card or a fancy pin?"

Lucien’s smile faltered ever so slightly. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as his voice turned sharp. "This isn’t a joke, Ethan. You’re playing a game far bigger than you realize, and I’m offering you a way to stay in it."

Ethan didn’t move, his demeanor unshaken. "I’ve been handling myself just fine so far. But I appreciate the concern."

Lucien’s patience began to wear thin, his tone dropping to an icy growl. "You don’t seem to understand the stakes here. You either kneel to me, be my dog, or I’ll dismantle everything you care about piece by piece. Your family, your friends, your precious Nova Tech—it’ll all burn."

Ethan stared steadily at Lucien. "You really like to put on a show," he said calmly. "But if threats are all you have, you need to put in more effort."

The words hit hard. Lucien's calm expression changed, and his face turned into a snarl. "You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? Let’s see how calm you are when I show you exactly what I’m capable of!"

With a sudden surge of energy, Lucien lashed out, his hand glowing with dark, violent energy as he aimed straight for Ethan. Just before the attack could hit, a hand suddenly appeared, and Lucien’s wrist was grabbed with strong precision.

Mark stood between them, his grip on Lucien’s wrist firm and unrelenting. His presence was so sudden, so overwhelming, that even Mike and Taison, who had been silently guarding nearby, didn’t intervene. Not because they hadn’t noticed but because they knew it would end in disaster.

"Lucien LaRue," Mark said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that filled the rooftop. "I’d advise against trying that again."

Lucien yanked his wrist free, his eyes narrowing as he sized Mark up. "Mark," he said, his voice laced with venom. "So, you’re still as meddlesome as ever."

Mark didn’t respond immediately, his gaze steady and unreadable. "Ethan doesn’t need to kneel to anyone. And I don’t think you’re foolish enough to start something you can’t finish."

Lucien smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "You’re confident. Let’s see if you can back it up." He turned to Mike and Taison. "Stay out of this," he ordered sharply. "I’ll handle it myself."

Lucien lunged forward, his movements swift and deadly. He struck with calculated precision, but Mark moved like water, deflecting every blow with a fluid grace that made it seem effortless.

Lucien’s strikes grew fiercer, his energy crackling with raw power. He unleashed a barrage of attacks—spinning kicks and sharp jabs aimed to overwhelm him. But Mark anticipated each move, countering with an elegance that kept him a step ahead.

The rooftop trembled slightly under the force, but Mark remained steady, his stance unshaken.

"You’ve improved," Mark said calmly, his tone almost conversational. "But you’re still sloppy."

Lucien growled, frustration flashing in his eyes. He launched himself at Mark again, this time focusing his energy on a single, devastating strike. Mark sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing Lucien’s arm mid-swing and using his momentum to send him crashing into the ground.

Lucien coughed, the wind knocked out of him as he glared up at Mark. "You think this is over?" he spat, his voice filled with defiance.

Mark didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned down slightly, his voice low but cutting. "If it were over, you wouldn’t still be breathing."

Lucien froze, the weight of Mark’s words sinking in.

Mark straightened, his calm demeanor unbroken. "Leave, Lucien. You’re not ready for this fight."

Lucien climbed to his feet slowly, his pride clearly bruised. He dusted himself off, his eyes burning with unspoken fury. "This isn’t the end," he hissed. "You’ve just delayed the inevitable."

Mark didn’t respond, his gaze steady as he watched Lucien retreat into the shadows.

As the tension on the rooftop began to dissipate, Mark turned to Ethan, who had remained calm throughout the exchange. "Are you alright?"

Ethan nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Thanks for the save."

Mark gave a small nod, his expression softening slightly. "Lucien won’t stop, but we’ll deal with him when the time comes."

Ethan’s gaze lingered on Mark for a moment. He could feel that something was amiss. It seemed as if Mark knew Lucien. He needed to ask about this later. But now, he needed to go and check his family first.