The system chimed softly in his mind: “Roll to assess the individual’s abilities.”
Miles hesitated, unsure if he even wanted to know. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he tossed the dice in his mind’s eye.
The system remained silent for a moment, longer than usual.
“Roll result: Invalid. Analysis restricted. Individual exceeds current parameters.”
“What does that mean?” Miles muttered, his unease growing. “Why can’t you tell me anything about him?”
“Warning: The individual is in a league of their own. Interaction is highly discouraged. Maintain distance to ensure personal safety.”
Miles’s heart sank. He’d never received a warning like this before—not even in the most dangerous situations.
The system’s words echoed in his mind as he took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to leave. Whatever this man was, he wasn’t someone Miles wanted to get involved with.
“Okay,” Miles whispered under his breath. “I get it. Stay out of his way, don’t draw attention, and—”
“Ah, there you are!”
The man’s voice cut through the air like a blade, smooth and commanding. Every head in the room turned to see where he was looking—and to Miles’s horror, those piercing blue eyes were locked onto him.
Miles froze. His first instinct was to run, but something in the man’s gaze held him in place. It wasn’t threatening, exactly, but it was powerful, as though the man had already decided that Miles wasn’t going anywhere.
“You,” the man said, his smile widening. “You’re... interesting.”
The room seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting to see what Miles would do.
“I—I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Miles stammered, taking another step back.
The man tilted his head, his expression amused. “Oh, I don’t think so. There’s something about you... something different.”
Miles’s stomach churned. The system’s warning rang in his ears: “Do not engage. Immediate retreat recommended.”
Summoning what little courage he had left, Miles turned on his heel and bolted for the door. He could feel the man’s eyes on his back, but he didn’t stop.
Once outside, he ducked into a nearby alley, his heart pounding in his chest.
“System,” he whispered harshly. “What just happened? Why did he notice me? I didn’t do anything!”
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“Analysis: High probability of latent ability detection. The individual may have sensed your unique traits.”
“Great,” Miles muttered. “So much for staying under the radar.”
______
Back in the dining hall, the man leaned back in his chair, his smile fading slightly as his gaze lingered on the door Miles had fled through.
“Interesting indeed,” he murmured, almost to himself.
One of the patrons nearest to him, a young merchant eager to stay in the man’s good graces, leaned forward. “Who was that, Sir?”
The man’s smile returned, though it was sharper now, almost predatory.
“Just someone with... potential,” he said, his tone light but his eyes cold. “And potential is something I simply can’t ignore.”
He rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. The room seemed to quiet once more as he adjusted his coat and strode toward the door.
Outside, Miles was already slipping further into the labyrinthine streets of Lumeina City, determined to disappear into the crowd.
But no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the dazzling man wasn’t finished with him yet.
The streets of Lumeina City were quieter in the early morning, the chaotic bustle giving way to a more subdued hum of activity. Miles wandered aimlessly, his mind still reeling from the strange encounter at the inn’s dining hall.
“What even was that guy?” he muttered to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. He replayed the system’s warning over and over in his head: “Do not engage. Immediate retreat recommended.”
The man’s gaze, sharp and probing, had felt like it pierced right through him. Miles shook his head, trying to brush off the lingering unease.
“I just need to stay low and keep out of trouble,” he mumbled. “Simple enough, right?”
Just as Miles turned down a quieter alley, a cold chill ran down his spine. That uncanny sixth sense, his so-called “luck,” made him glance over his shoulder—and that’s when he saw them.
The same group from the previous night.
There were three of them, dressed in worn, mismatched clothing, their eyes glinting with malicious intent. One of them—a burly man with a scar cutting across his cheek—grinned when their eyes met.
“Well, well,” the scarred man said, his voice a low growl. “Looks like the little mouse didn’t scurry far enough.”
“Fantastic,” Miles muttered under his breath, his stomach sinking. He turned and bolted without a second thought, the sound of boots slamming against cobblestones following close behind.
As he ran, Miles felt the telltale pulse of the system activating in his mind.
“Roll to escape.”
“Not now!” Miles hissed, ducking down another alley. But the system wouldn’t relent.
He rolled the mental dice, a desperate plea forming in his mind: Please, just let me get away!
The dice rolls around and lands on a soul-crushing 1.
The result flashed before his eyes: Critical Failure: The pursuers are gaining ground. Escape is unlikely without external intervention.
“Oh, come on!” Miles groaned, his legs burning as he pushed himself harder. His chest heaved with every breath, and he could hear the kidnappers closing in behind him.
“I hate this city,” he muttered. “I really, really hate this city.”
As he rounded another corner, Miles felt a hand snag the back of his shirt. He stumbled forward, barely managing to keep his balance.
“Gotcha!” the scarred man barked, his grip tightening.
Panic surged through Miles, and he swung his elbow backward, catching the man in the ribs. The man grunted but didn’t let go.
Before Miles could yell for help, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
“Let go of him.”
The kidnappers froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the voice. Miles turned as well, his heart pounding, and there he was—the dazzling man from the inn.
The man stood with an air of unshakable confidence, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. His sharp blue eyes locked onto the kidnappers, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
“Hyperion,” one of the kidnappers whispered, his face draining of color.