WHO'S NEXT

CHAPTER FOUR

My blood turned to ice. In my first life, Julius and I had been friends in high school, or so I thought. He was the charismatic one, the leader, the man everyone followed. He had seen something in me, or perhaps he had just seen a useful tool. He had protected me from the bullies, given me a sense of belonging, and in return, I had given him my absolute loyalty.

Until the gemstone, I stared at the screen. The message was simple.

"Hey Aeron. Long time no see. I'm back in Oakhaven for a few days. Want to grab a drink at The Neon Coil?"

I felt a surge of nausea. The betrayal flashed before my eyes: the feeling of the knife, the look of boredom on his face. I wanted to scream. I wanted to find him right now and drive this new blade into his throat.

But I stopped. If I killed him now, I would be a murderer in a world that still had laws. I would be in a cell when the System descended. I needed him alive. Not as a friend, but as a target. I wanted him to see the world fall. I wanted him to see me rise. And when the time came, I wanted him to feel the same cold steel in his ribs that he had given me.

I typed a response. "Sure. I'm around."

I walked back to my apartment, the city lights blurring around me. As I entered my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the calendar.

Six days and twelve hours remaining. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. I could feel something shifting inside me. It wasn't the System, that wouldn't arrive for another week, but something else. A remnant of my previous life, perhaps, or a reaction to the temporal shift.

A screen flickered in the periphery of my vision. It was faint, translucent, and unlike any System interface I remembered.

(Potential Ability Detected: Temporal Echo.)

I stiffened. I stared at the words; the System didn't give abilities until the first dungeon was cleared. I had spent five years as a frontline warrior, and I knew the rules. You kill, you level, you evolve. You don't just wake up with an ability.

I reached out to touch the screen, but my hand passed right through it.

"What is the fuck?" I whispered; the text shifted.

(Temporal Echo: The user possesses memories of a collapsed timeline. Ability status: Dormant. Requirement for activation: Experience the catalyst of the first breach.)

I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. The future can change. That was the terrifying realization. If I had an ability now, it meant my presence in this timeline was already warping the outcome. The locations of the rifts might shift. The loot might change. The people who were supposed to survive might die.

I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the sprawling city. I had spent five years as a survivor. I had learned how to hide, how to scavenge, and how to kill. But this time, I didn't want to just survive.

I wanted to rule; I wanted to be the one being followed, not only a survivor but also a savior.

The next morning, I woke up before the alarm. I spent three hours doing push-ups and squats until my muscles screamed and my lungs burned. I was weak, but I had the mental discipline of a man who had walked through hell. I pushed myself until I vomited, then I got up and did ten more.

When I arrived at the logistics hub, I found Brad waiting for me, he wasn't alone. He had four other guys with him, and they were all holding heavy iron pipes. Brad's jaw was heavily bandaged, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"You think you're a tough guy, Miller?" Brad spat, the words slurring slightly through the bandage. "You think one lucky hit makes you a man?"

I didn't stop walking. I didn't even look at them.

"Move," I said.

Brad roared and swung the pipe. He was slow. In my first life, that swing would have caught me in the shoulder and sent me sprawling. Now, I saw the arc of the weapon in slow motion.

I stepped inside the swing, the pipe whistling past my ear. I grabbed Brad's wrist and twisted it with a sudden, violent jerk. "was yesterday not enough for you brad?" I said already bored with the exchange, I had other things to think about, I need to strategize, I need to train among other things.

A sickening pop echoed through the hallway. Brad screamed, his pipe clattering to the floor. I didn't stop. I drove my knee into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and then grabbed the back of his head, slamming his face into the concrete wall.

The other four froze. They weren't bullies; they were just followers. They saw their leader crumpled on the floor, and the illusion of his power vanished.

I looked at them, my eyes cold.

Who's next? I asked.