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Avery's Section
Traffic in Capital City was a nightmare. Worse than she'd imagined. By the time Avery reached her destination, the evening rush had already devoured a full ninety minutes of her life.
The Nightshade Lounge sat tucked into one of the city's glittering commercial districts. Unlike the neighboring bars dripping in neon, its sign was crafted from crushed deep-blue stones, each shard glowing faintly—a slow, rhythmic pulse, like something breathing in the dark.
[Detected: High-purity energy source nearby. Absorbable.]
The system alert stopped her mid-step.
Ahead, the bar's massive wooden door stood open, its frame etched with faint runes. The moment she approached, her skin tingled—like static electricity crawling under her clothes.
"Those stones?" she murmured, drawing a wisp of energy toward her fingers. A jolt shot through her nerves—the same kind of pain she'd felt during her awakening.
It was unmistakable—the exact same force that had unlocked her powers, altered her physique, and shattered every rule she'd grown up believing.
[Substance Analysis Initiated]
Type: Refined Spiritstone Primary
Function: Boosts Psionic-class ability output during activation
Secondary Function:Absorption enables power-level breakthrough for Augment and Elemental-class Espers
Caution: Energy is volatile and causes extreme physical backlash during integration
Avery narrowed her eyes.
"So that's what Soren meant." Her lips curled. "It's not the stone that's rare—it's the guts to use it."
[…]
The system went silent. A little too silent.
Locals used these things to amplify their powers… but never once thought to absorb them? She stared at the glowing stones again, this time like a wolf spotting a deer behind bulletproof glass.
They were cavemen worshipping fire.And she? She had a lighter.
Pushing the door open, she stepped into velvet jazz and aged whiskey. The scent wrapped around her like luxury.
Behind the black marble bar, a bartender flipped a silver shaker in lazy arcs—but Avery's eyes were already locked on the woman at the end of the counter.
Nyra Night.
Danger in heels and satin. Her chestnut curls fell over one shoulder like ink across glass. The slit in her black dress revealed a matte-black thigh holster—well-worn, well-used. She raised a glass painted the same color as the glowing sign outside.
"Avery Blake?" That voice could melt glaciers. And probably had.
"Nyra." Avery offered a sweet smile, soft enough to suit her borrowed body. Under the lounge's moody lighting, she looked like a lost undergrad who'd wandered in on accident.
Nyra's midnight-blue nail curled under her chin. "Such eyes…" She leaned in, inhaling. "You don't smell like you're eighteen."
[ALERT: Psionic Probe Detected][Interference Engaged. Scan Blocked.]
Avery "panicked." Her elbow "slipped"—just enough to knock over a nearby cocktail. The liquid arced toward Nyra's scarf in elegant slow motion.
Only for Nyra to catch the glass without even glancing down.
Damn. She's faster than I thought.
"I—I'm sorry…" Avery stammered, her voice trembling with flawless precision. The kind of performance that once closed billion-dollar deals.
Nyra's fingers closed—soft as velvet, sharp as wire. Her thumb lingered at Avery's pulse, measuring the tremor beneath her skin.
"Officer Soren called ahead," she said sweetly, though something sharp flickered behind her gaze. Whatever she'd scanned for hadn't shown up.
"I want training," Avery said. "And information about my family."
Nyra stood in a single, fluid motion—six-foot-three of slow-burning threat. Candlelight dimmed beneath her shadow.
"Paid in advance. Follow me."
Scene Transition
The hallway was upholstered in buttery yellow leather—the kind of material that muffled both footsteps and screams.
At the end, Nyra pressed her palm to a section of wall that looked solid.
It wasn't.
The door swung open without a sound.
Inside, a red-haired man looked up from a game of cards. His bone-white ring pulsed with faint light, its surface carved with faces that twisted when not looked at directly.
"Nightshade," Nyra said. No introductions. No pleasantries. "Training room."
Everyone else in the room froze.
Nightshade stood with a surgeon's precision. He moved to a wardrobe, tapped a hidden panel—and the room shifted.
A hidden wall slid open, revealing a training arena far larger than physics should allow. Over 200 square meters of impossible space, humming with restrained energy.
Avery stepped inside—And the air cracked like a gunshot.[ALERT: Incoming Psionic Attack Detected!]