As soon as he heard the voice on the line, he responded quickly, "This is Revin Graves."
There was a brief pause before the voice on the other end replied, calm and composed. "Ah... still doing well, young one. What do you need?"
"I need a license to enter the gate."
A short silence followed, then the voice instructed, "Come to the school." And just like that, the call ended.
Revin let out a quiet breath of relief. He was glad the number still worked. Without hesitation, he saved it in his phone for future use.
Afterward, he wandered into the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. Opening the fridge, he found it half empty. He gathered what remained leftovers and mismatched ingredients and threw together a makeshift noodle dish. It was a strange combination, barely qualifying as anything specific. He stared at the horrific concoction with mild disgust… and ate it anyway.
Once he was done, he settled into the living room and sat down in a worn-out chair. He tried to recreate the phenomenon he'd experienced during that fight with the beasts. His strength and speed had undeniably increased that day—but that wasn't all.
No, there had been something else. Something deeper.
"Battle sense…" he muttered.
Yes. That was it. A refined awareness, as if every instinct had sharpened to perfection. He knew how to fight how to move, react, dominate. And none of it had been taught.
His eyes slowly closed as he sank into thought.
Sleep crept over him, and when he finally awoke, it was already 10 PM. The room was dark. He grabbed his phone and checked the time.
"Seems my attempt failed," he muttered, rising from the chair. He headed to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.
Under the warm spray, a memory resurfaced vivid and strange. He remembered a golden string tethering his body to something… something.
Even as he dried off and lay in bed, the thought wouldn't leave him. It stayed with him until he slept
The next morning came. With nothing left in the fridge, Revin drank a bottle of water and prepared to head out for food. He left his apartment and began walking down the street.
From a distance, he noticed a group of people men and women dressed in black and white, scanning their surroundings. They weren't from the GMA, that much was clear.
I minded my business and walked past them.
But then one of them, a man with short blond hair, probably in his thirties, locked eyes with me. His stare was piercing.
"Sir," he called out, "do you know a person named Revin Graves?"
His tone was calm, but there was a weight behind his words. I lied.
"I don't know who that is," I said coldly.
He studied me for a second, then nodded. "You may go."
I kept walking. The air felt heavy now. Tense. As if they were hunting someone like me. I quickened my pace.
Then, without warning, the blond man grabbed my shoulder.
"It seems we've found the right person," he said, eyes glowing crimson. A menacing grin formed on his face.
I slapped his hand away and took several steps back just enough to prepare for either escape or defense. These people… they were skilled.
I turned and ran, pushing my enhanced speed to the limit. But in the blink of an eye, the man appeared in front of me. I barely dodged his punch. The air whistled past my ear and even the near miss left a cut on my forehead.
Blood trickled down my face. This wasn't a fight I could run from.
I scanned the rest of them. There were still four others, watching from a distance. What did they want? Didn't they know I was part of the Graves? That name should've given them pause.
But they didn't care.
Their metallic masks glinted in the sun, but the madness in their eyes was unmistakable. The blond man struck again, this time targeting my stomach with precise, rapid blows. I bearly dodged it but it was clear they needed me alive.
I was bleeding more heavily now. My vision began to blur.
Then, one of the others dashed forward at insane speed. I felt a massive impact on my shoulder. I was knocked out cold
When I woke up, my entire body was restrained. I was sitting in a chair in a dimly lit room. The scent of chemicals lingered in the air. Around me were tall glass tube test chambers. Inside them… people. Unmoving. Expressionless.
My vision was hazy at first, but slowly, I saw them faces suspended in fluid, frozen in time.
A man stepped out from the shadows, accompanied by the ones who had abducted me. His eyes were bloodshot. His long black hair fell past his shoulders. He wore a long brown coat, stained with age and use.
"Is this him?" he asked.
A woman beside him nodded. "Yes. He's Revin Graves."
"Finally," the man whispered, a twisted smile curling his lips. "I have one of the Graves in my hands." He let out a low, manic laugh.
But they didn't know that
I wasn't a blood relative of the Graves.
The man turned and pulled open a thick curtain.
Behind it… was a crack in the air itself. A rift, glowing with chaotic energy.
He walked to a control table and pressed a series of buttons. The tubes lit up. The people inside them screamed in agony as a glowing white substance was extracted from their bodies, funneled through pipes and infused into the energy of the rift.
The white light intensified and was collected in a container. The man handed it to my captor.
He drank it and his power surged. For a moment, he radiated energy… then it faded.
"Sh*t," he muttered. "Another failure."
Then he grinned. "But with him, we can make one that has a permanent effect
Before I could react, the man jabbed a syringe into my neck. My vision blurred. My thoughts slowed. I then fell asleep