The scarred man let go of Miles as if he’d been burned, stumbling back a step. “W-We didn’t know you were here,” he stammered. “We didn’t mean no harm!”

Hyperion tilted his head, his smile widening slightly. “Oh? And yet here you are, chasing down some poor boy in the middle of the day. That doesn’t seem very harmless to me.”

The tension in the air was palpable. The kidnappers exchanged nervous glances, clearly weighing their options.

“You don’t want trouble with me,” Hyperion said, his tone light but laced with an unmistakable threat. “But it seems you’ve already found it.”

Without waiting for a response, Hyperion moved faster than Miles could follow. In the blink of an eye, he was standing between Miles and the kidnappers. His hand shot out, grabbing the scarred man by the collar and slamming him against the alley wall.

“You’ll be coming with me,” Hyperion said calmly, his grip unyielding. He seemed to be talking to the kidnappers, but Miles got a feeling that he was included in that statement.

The other two kidnappers tried to bolt, but Hyperion flicked his wrist, and with an almost lazy gesture, two small throwing knives embedded themselves in the wall just inches from their heads. They froze in their tracks, their faces pale with fear.

Miles watched in stunned silence as Hyperion effortlessly subdued the trio. There was something unnervingly graceful about the way he moved, as if he’d done this a hundred times before.

Hyperion turned his attention back to Miles, his expression softening slightly. “Are you all right?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Miles nodded, though his legs felt like they might give out at any moment. “I—I think so,” he managed to say.

“Good.” Hyperion’s smile returned, brighter this time. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Before Miles could protest, Hyperion grabbed him by the wrist and started leading him out of the alley. The kidnappers, still visibly shaken, were dragged along behind them like disobedient children.

“Wait—where are we going?” Miles asked, struggling to keep up.

“The police station,” Hyperion replied. “They’ll take care of these scum. And you, my friend, are going to tell me why you’re wandering this city alone.”

Miles’s mind raced as he tried to process everything that had just happened. The system had warned him to stay away from Hyperion, but now he was being dragged along by the very man it had told him to avoid.

“Look,” Miles said, his voice shaky. “I appreciate the help, but I really don’t need—”

“You do,” Hyperion interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “This city isn’t kind to people like you.”

“People like me?” Miles echoed, frowning.

Hyperion glanced over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “People who stand out,” he said simply.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Miles’s stomach churned. He wanted to argue, to tell Hyperion he was wrong, but deep down, he knew the man was right. No matter how hard he tried to blend in, his luck—and the system—always seemed to draw attention.

The police station was a small, nondescript building on the edge of the district. Hyperion handed over the kidnappers with ease, his reputation seemingly enough to ensure they were taken into custody without question.

As the officers led the kidnappers away, Hyperion turned back to Miles.

“Now,” he said, his smile returning. “Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

Miles hesitated, every instinct screaming at him to run. But Hyperion’s gaze pinned him in place, and for a moment, he felt like he didn’t have a choice.

“Fine,” Miles said reluctantly. “But only for a minute.”

Hyperion chuckled. “That’s all I’ll need.”

As they stepped back out onto the bustling streets of Lumeina City, Miles couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had just taken a turn he wasn’t prepared for. Hyperion was dangerous—he could feel it in his bones. But for now, at least, it seemed the man was more interested in helping him than harming him.

For now.

The sunlight outside the city gates felt brighter than usual, but Miles didn’t find it comforting. As he and Hyperion stepped onto the open road, the din of Lumeina City fading behind them, an uneasy tension settled in Miles’s chest. Hyperion, however, seemed completely at ease, his steps light and his gaze sweeping lazily over the surrounding countryside.

Miles cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “So...what exactly do you want from me?”

Hyperion smiled, the same dazzling, disarming smile that had unnerved Miles back at the inn. “Straight to the point. I like that.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I’ve seen a lot of people in this city. Swindlers, thieves, nobles, mercenaries—everyone trying to scrape by in their own way. But you? You’re something different.”

“Different how?” Miles asked, his hands instinctively balling into fists.

Hyperion stopped walking and turned to face Miles, his expression suddenly serious. “That’s what I want to find out.” His piercing blue eyes seemed to search Miles’s very soul. “Let me use my abilities on you. I can check something... clarify a suspicion I have.”

Miles’s heart raced. His instincts screamed at him to refuse, and almost on cue, the system spoke in his mind: “Roll for decision-making.”

The dice landed high, and the system’s voice continued: “It is safe. No harm will come from this action.”

Even so, Miles shook his head. “No. I don’t care what you think you’ll find. I’m not some experiment.”

Hyperion tilted his head, an amused yet predatory glint in his eye. “You’re cautious. Smart. But I wasn’t really asking.”

Before Miles could react, Hyperion extended his hand toward him. A strange energy shimmered in the air, a faint golden light crackling between Hyperion’s fingers as his power activated.

Miles felt a sudden pressure around him, like an invisible force trying to peel back layers of himself. He staggered slightly but held his ground, gritting his teeth. The system’s voice rang out again: “Warning: External power detected. Nullification in progress.”

The golden energy around Hyperion’s hand fizzled and dissipated. The air grew still again. Hyperion blinked, staring at his hand as though it had betrayed him. Then he looked at Miles, his expression unreadable.

“You’re... protected,” he muttered, more to himself than to Miles.

“Protected?” Miles asked warily.

Hyperion nodded slowly, his tone tinged with both curiosity and frustration. “It’s not just your luck. There’s something bigger at play here. A power beyond this world, shielding you—keeping your identity and your abilities hidden. Even from me.”

Miles took a step back, his nerves fraying. “I told you no. And now you’re talking like I’m some kind of freak.”

Hyperion’s smile returned, but it was softer this time, almost apologetic. “Not a freak. An anomaly. And if I were you, I’d tread carefully. The kind of power that protects you? It doesn’t do so lightly. Moreover, don’t tell others of this power. Outsiders are not welcomed with open arms.”

Miles didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and started walking away, leaving Hyperion behind. Whatever had just happened, he didn’t want to dwell on it any longer than he had to.

“O-Outsiders?” Miles asked with caution.