I’d finally put enough distance between myself, campus, and the crowds. Slowing down, I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the lingering impression Owen left. How I always ended up in these messes was beyond me—like the universe just couldn’t let me slip by unnoticed.

As I eased my hold on reality, the world around me snapped back into motion. People nearby did a few double-takes, eyebrows rising—but before I even blinked, they’d gone back to whatever they were doing—typing on phones, walking dogs, arguing over parking spaces—as if a guy materializing out of nowhere was just part of the daily scenery.

Then came the first stirrings of fatigue, more than just an ordinary ache. It sank in as I kept walking, a heavy pull dragging down at the edges of my senses. Fifteen minutes? Not bad—I’ve pushed it harder, like that time I cut through two hours of gridlock for a front-row seat at a Taylor Swift concert. Extended use of my powers always did this; the longer I held reality at bay, the harder it hit once I let go. I’d held it for a solid fifteen minutes on my way out, so yeah, the weight was sharper today, but still manageable, like the weight of a long day settling into my bones. Still, it was nothing like that first time, back when I hadn’t known the cost or the limits, and the power had almost torn me apart.

Back then, I’d been a kid, too young to know any better, playing Hit the Dirt with friends at the park. We’d used that giant oak tree as home base, its roots clawing into the ground like something out of a fantasy novel. I remember tearing across the grass, heart pounding, with one thought on loop: I have to touch it first, I have to beat them. Every muscle in my body felt like it was straining to push harder, reach further. Just as I thought I was too far, that tree seemed to shift closer, like it had heard me, like the space between us was shrinking in an instant. And then—blackout.

The next thing I remembered was waking up in my bed, my mom’s arms wrapped around me like I’d just been pulled back from the edge of a cliff. Her grip was tight, her voice even tighter. “You could have been seriously hurt,” she’d said, holding on like she thought I might vanish if she let go. Later, when I finally returned to the park, I found that giant oak sprawled on its side, roots torn and twisted like some colossal hand had yanked it from the ground. I’d never known if that was my doing or some wild coincidence, but the memory had stayed with me, a reminder of what could happen when power outruns control.

But that was then. These days, I’d learned how to pace myself. The tug of fatigue was still there, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I could keep this up for a while yet—at least long enough to get my hands on a decent cup of coffee, which, let’s be real, has probably saved more lives than anyone cares to admit.

With caffeine as the next objective, I headed down the sidewalk toward a coffee joint I knew was just around the corner. They did a solid cup, and right now, caffeine felt like the only thing standing between me and a complete unraveling. The thought of sinking into a booth, putting my phone on silent, and riding out the afternoon with a strong espresso was almost enough to lift my mood.

Just as I turned onto the next street, a deep, echoing boom rattled the ground beneath me. I froze, feeling the concrete tremble underfoot, and squinted up the street. A few seconds of tense silence hung in the air before—boom, again, this time accompanied by the faint crack of shattering glass. Around me, people halted mid-stride, wide-eyed, glancing at each other and up to the sky as if hoping for some divine explanation to… just appear.

A sharp, repetitive siren blared suddenly, cutting through the usual hum of the city. The sound was almost physical, slicing through conversations and bringing traffic to a halt. Phones buzzed and chimed all around as the city’s emergency loudspeakers kicked on, broadcasting a message that dropped like a weight in the air.

“ATTENTION! ATTENTION! ALL CIVILIANS IN THE SOUTHERN DOWNTOWN GATEWAY ARE ADVISED TO EVACUATE OR SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER! THIS IS A DELTA-LEVEL THREAT ALERT! REPEAT: A DELTA-LEVEL THREAT HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED! EVACUATE OR SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY!”

The announcement shook me out of my daze. Delta-level? That was well above my usual coffee-run pay grade. But how had a Delta-level threat managed to appear so suddenly… right here, in the middle of downtown?

I shrugged it off. Sure, a Delta-level threat sounded impressive, but the city faced these things all the time. They’d have it under control before I even have a chance to place my order.

The coffee shop was just down the block, almost within reach, though the ground-shaking explosions seemed intent on following me. I shot a glance down the street toward the source, then back to the shop’s cozy, caffeine-filled promise. This isn’t my problem, I reminded myself. No reason a guy on a coffee run should get dragged into it.

But the noise was getting louder, the chaos closer. Screams echoed down the street, people shoving past with wide, panicked eyes, tossing glances over their shoulders as they ran. The options spun in my head—leave for a quieter coffee place by the river? Or maybe just call it a day and take the next train home?

Another explosion rattled the street, close enough this time to send a spray of dust and debris into the air from somewhere just a block away.

“Just… get the coffee and go,” I muttered, forcing myself to press forward. But the ground shook again, sirens blaring, adrenaline pulling me to a stop. A warning prickled in my gut, suggesting this might be bigger than the usual mess the city threw at people. Ugh. Where the hell are all the heroes? What is taking them so long to respond?

I moved forward, the coffee shop sign cutting through the haze of dust like a beacon. Just a few steps more, and a strong dose of caffeine could smooth out this whole mess. But as I got closer, I caught sight of the barista inside, hands trembling as he wrestled with the deadbolt. His panicked gaze darted through the glass, eyes locking on the street before he twisted the lock one last time, yanked down the blinds, and disappeared into the shadows.

I exhaled, shaking my head. Figures. The “Closed for Emergencies” sign mocked me from behind the glass.

The crowd had already scattered, ducking into alleys or sprinting down side streets as the loudspeaker droned out another urgent evacuation alert. Dust swirled in the air, falling onto dropped bags and half-spilled coffees, a strange calm creeping over the empty block. One thought lingered stubbornly in my mind as I watched my caffeine fix slip away: Maybe it would have been better to hang out with Owen.

I sighed, gaze fixed on the locked coffee shop door, willing the situation to resolve itself. But a low, guttural grunting behind me snapped me back to the present. The rumble had thickened into a growl, the heavy, deliberate sound of something enormous approaching, each footfall crunching over asphalt with brutal force. My jaw tightened. Maybe—just maybe—it’ll turn around and find someone else to haunt. A quick glance in the coffee shop window told me otherwise; a looming, hulking figure was reflected in the glass, drawing closer with every step.

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In the warped reflection, all I could make out was the mass of it—a shape that didn’t belong on any normal street. I let out another reluctant sigh. Clearly, this thing had come with a purpose, and I wasn’t getting my coffee until it was done.

Finally, I turned to face it, bracing for whatever horror show was waiting.

There, standing in the middle of the street, was something pulled straight out of a retro horror flick—gruesome in a way that didn’t even aim to be scary, just plain wrong. The creature looked like a nightmare clawed from some twisted void—pure muscle and fury, barely contained. It had horns, serrated and curling outward like jagged bone blades, scraping dangerously close to the buildings on either side. Beneath them, a grotesque face was twisted into a cracked snarl, with jagged teeth gleaming like shards of broken glass.

Its entire body seemed to ripple under taut, stretched skin, muscles bulging in ways that shouldn’t be possible, each limb ending in cracked, massive hooves that sent tremors through the concrete with every step.

What the hell is this thing? It was like a bull mixed with something out of an eldritch nightmare, mutated and left to wander a post-apocalyptic wasteland. And, from the way it was staring at me, I doubted it was here to chat… or pick up a latte.

I stood my ground, doing my best to look more prepared than I felt. It halted, nostrils flaring, drawing in a long, shuddering breath that rattled deep in its chest. The sound was like gravel grinding against metal, scraping and broken. When it spoke, each word came out fractured, like it was scraping the remnants of language from somewhere inside its twisted mind.

“POWER… CLOSE… I KNOW IT… SOMEWHERE—” It took another ragged sniff, a grotesque, greedy sound that clawed its way out of its throat. “STRONG… WARM… LIKE FIRE AND… STONE…” It dragged itself a few steps closer, each one sending tremors through the ground, its bloodshot eyes honing in on me with a feverish desperation. The way it moved, like it was latching onto a scent only it could detect, made my skin crawl.

The creature inhaled sharply, its face twisting in frustration as if its own senses were betraying it. “IT’S HERE…” it rasped, a spark of madness flickering in its gaze. “YOU… YOU HAVE IT. I… SMELL IT… FROM YOU… CLOSE ENOUGH TO…” Its voice fractured, shifting between a low snarl and a high, piercing demand. “GIVE IT! GIVE IT NOW!”

I blinked, half-frowning, half-baffled, and glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting someone else to be standing there. “Uh… me?” I pointed at myself, eyebrows raised. “Buddy, I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

The creature’s mouth twisted into something beyond a snarl, jagged teeth gleaming under the streetlight like shattered glass. “LIAR!” it spat, its voice spasming between tones. “I KNOW IT… SMELL IT ALL AROUND YOU… JUST GIVE IT TO ME!”

I trailed off, sniffing at my own shirt, coming up empty. “Pretty sure all you’re catching is caffeine and a solid hit of afternoon depression. Could’ve found that a dozen times on the way over.”

The creature’s eyes blazed, steam huffing from its nostrils. “YOU MOCK ME… YOU MOCK… ME. GIVE IT… OR I’LL—I’LL—”

I raised my hands, backing up a step. “Alright, alright, no need to get worked up. I’m all for sharing, but whatever it is you’re after, I don’t think I’ve got it on me.”

The creature froze, nostrils flaring as it took in another shuddering breath, its eyes wild and unfocused. For a split second, it seemed uncertain, almost doubting its own senses. I tilted my head, meeting its glare with a shrug. “So… you’re really set on this, aren’t you?”

A low, guttural growl rolled through the air, each tone vibrating with barely-contained rage. Its hesitation shattered, and the creature’s patience snapped. With a howl that shook the air, it lunged forward, digging its massive hooves into the asphalt and barreling straight at me like a runaway freight train, serrated horns gleaming under the streetlights.

Before I could react, the creature barreled into an abandoned city bus, sending it flipping end over end like a crushed soda can. Metal twisted and glinted under the streetlights, the bus tumbling down the road on a collision course with the few stragglers who hadn’t made it clear.

Instinct kicked in.

As adrenaline surged, the world around me came to an abrupt standstill. In an instant, the entire scene held its breath, and the bus hung mid-tumble, caught in an impossible arc. Faces of bystanders stared back, expressions frozen in horror, a scream half-formed on someone’s lips. And there, inches from the ground, was the creature, its hulking form locked in furious motion—teeth bared, muscles stretched, every line of it straining forward, caught in the violent pause.

Fatigue seeped into my bones, heavier than I’d expected. Come on, Dave, I told myself. You’ve got this. Just breathe.

I closed the distance between myself and the bus in a few quick strides, stepping between it and the civilians as the whole scene locked into a surreal, silent stillness. Placing my hand on the bus’s cold surface, I could almost feel the coiled energy within it—the raw momentum suspended, like a held breath. Alright, Dave, big metal box. You’ve dealt with worse than public transportation.

With a wry smile fading, I reminded myself to focus, grounding my senses as I pictured the bus sitting there, calm and unmoving, its path forgotten. Just resting on the ground, as if it had always been that way.

With that thought anchored, I exhaled and released my hold.

Reality snapped back, and the bus dropped as if gravity had softened its grip, landing with a quiet, almost gracious thud mere inches from the stunned crowd. They blinked, clearly struggling to process how something that had been barreling toward them seconds ago had touched down so gently, as if guided by an unseen hand. For a brief, subtle moment—just a flicker of confusion in their eyes—they seemed to sense they’d brushed against something… impossible.

I exhaled, feeling the weight of what I’d just done claw at the edges of my senses. But time wasn’t on my side—there was no pause before the next threat loomed. Ignoring the crowd, I turned to face the creature, just in time to see it overshoot its mark, momentum carrying it straight into the coffee shop. With a shattering crash, it tore through the glass storefront, sending tables and chairs flying as it finally skidded to an undignified stop amidst the wreckage.

I surveyed the wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Perfect,” I muttered under my breath. “There goes my coffee.”

As if sensing the frustration, the creature let out a violent, guttural roar, the sound filled with raw, frantic energy that crackled through the air, desperate and unnerving. But beneath the fury, faint and steady, I felt something that left me speechless: The Calm.

The sensation rippled through the creature’s chaotic aura—familiar and impossible, a steady heartbeat buried deep in that dark mess of energy. Great, just what I needed. A monster with layers.

The creature’s eyes blazed crimson, twisting its already monstrous face into a mask of desperation and fury. With a guttural roar, it scraped its hooves against the asphalt, tearing grooves into the ground before launching itself at me, relentless and rabid. The question of The Calm would have to wait.

I felt a tremor run through me as the fatigue crept deeper, pulling at the edges of my strength. Focus. This thing was barely holding itself together, the chaos inside it spilling over in raw, uncontained fury. If I was going to keep this thing from tearing everything apart, I’d need to end it—and fast. So much for an easy afternoon.