CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER 21- VOICE BENEATH

The golden afternoon sunlight painted the rooftops of City Z in molten amber. Kaidren’s figure darted through the shifting gleam like a living shadow, leaping effortlessly from one building to the next. The wind curled through his dark hair, whipping his pink hoodie behind him like a muted banner. His movements were fluid, exact, but almost too casual—like he’d done this a thousand times before.

He wasn’t running for fun. This was transit.

One jump, two. Then a pause.

He crouched at the edge of a high-rise, scanning the next rooftop.

It was strange. Just hours ago, he had nearly been caught in an alley by a gang of low-tier thugs—probably petty robbers. The memory echoed in his mind, and for the first time in a while, Kaidren asked himself a question he didn’t expect.

"...How did I almost let that happen?"

His voice never left his lips. It hovered in his head, flat and toneless. He didn’t feel panic. Not regret. Just...an assessment of a miscalculation. One that shouldn’t have happened, especially now that he’d confirmed his physical capabilities far surpassed any average esper.

"Speaking of those idiots..."

The image of the alleyway stirred another memory—one that didn’t sit as cleanly.

The voices.

Beneath.

Not nearby. Not around. Beneath.

A chill crept along the base of his neck, despite the sunlight warming his skin. The voices he heard weren’t just muffled echoes from street-level basements. They had come from deep beneath the surface—unnaturally deep. A place no ordinary person should be able to hear from.

But Kaidren wasn’t ordinary. His unlocked esper abilities had enhanced every cell of his body. His hearing? Razor sharp. His senses? Tuned like a weapon. Even so...

Even with that power, he should not have heard them.

And yet...he did.

The memory replayed itself like a cold recording, stripped of distortion. He hadn’t imagined it. Not with that clarity.

"...District 1 is a risk. Hit District 2 and 3 first."

"We move on all four. Simultaneously. One strike. No hesitation."

"We have approval. Begin finalization."

The words weren’t shouted. They were surgical. Calm. Tactical. They weren’t the voices of fools or unstable radicals. These were planned, deliberate. Professional.

Terrorists.

Their plan? Simultaneous attacks across all four districts of City Z.

Kaidren’s steps slowed. His eyes narrowed as he landed atop another roof, his soles silent against the tile. He didn’t gasp. He didn’t freeze. But his mind turned, cold and methodical.

"...Terrorist attacks in all four districts."

It should’ve shaken him. Any normal person would’ve panicked at the implication.

But Kaidren wasn’t normal.

The threat of death didn’t worry him. He was stronger than most. If he needed to, he could vanish in the blink of an eye, outspeed or outmatch a Tier 2 or 3 esper easily. Maybe even a Tier 4, depending on the matchup.

No, it wasn’t the danger that caught him off-guard.

It was the fact that he couldn’t remember this happening in the game.

This? This didn’t fit. There had never been a "City Z Terror Attack" event. Nothing in the early game pointed to something this coordinated happening in the opening days.

"...Did I forget?"

"...Or is this one of those deviations?"

He asked the question inwardly, with no urgency, no emotion—just calculation. The same way a chess master considers a missing pawn.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to fully analyze the voices—who they belonged to, where they were, or whether they were really espers. But something about them, about their composed intensity, made him certain they weren’t ordinary people.

"...Espers. Definitely."

And espers planning a strike on four districts at once? That wasn’t just criminal. That was warfare.

He landed again, crouched low, breathing steady. The alleyways below stretched in fractured shadows, and the walls were layered in rusted metal piping and broken signage. On one building, a torn banner still flapped from some past festival. Another leap. A turn.

Then—

Clink.

A sound, sharp and metallic, cracked the silence. A kicked can.

His eyes flicked down instantly. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped moving.

Footsteps.

Voices.

"Someone’s here again."

"You know the drill. Anyone enters, we make sure they don’t leave."

Kaidren didn’t move. Not yet. The voices came from a connecting alley—six meters left, just behind a tagged garbage chute. One of them laughed, kicked another can.

The noise bounced off the wall and hit the spray-painted words like a drumbeat.

"FUCK THE ESPERS"

Scrawled in aggressive red.

Kaidren’s lips didn’t move, but in his head:

"...Idiots."

His senses snapped back online. He didn’t need to deal with this.

And he wasn’t going to.

With a single motion, he leaned forward—then blurred into movement.

One silent, sharpened jump.

His figure vanished into the light, slipping up the wall and landing atop the building like a ghost. He left no sound behind. Not even the wind stirred in his wake.

Mid-air, the purple energy still shimmered faintly around his limbs, and he briefly frowned to himself.

"...Still active."

"...That was close."

He hadn’t noticed the aura still pulsing around him. That could’ve given him away. He needed to be more alert. Slipping like that wasn’t an option.

Landing smoothly on the next rooftop, Kaidren continued his journey.

The Dimerian Store was still far, deep in Block B of District 2. But he had time. More importantly, he had questions.

The deeper he went into the city, the more distant the rooftops became—but his focus remained steady. And yet, even as his body moved on autopilot, his mind circled back to the voices.

Should I do something?

Should I warn someone? Intervene?

His thoughts looped, logical but cold.

He didn’t care about being a hero.

He didn’t care about stopping a tragedy.

But something inside him knew what he heard wasn’t posturing. It was serious. Calculated. Probably already in motion.

And still—he didn’t feel fear.

Just...detachment.

Still leaping across rooftops, he finally let out a mental conclusion.

"...I’ll just observe."

He couldn’t afford to act on half-info. He hadn’t heard the full plan, hadn’t identified the people behind it. Running around like a misguided "Main Character" would only drag him into chaos.

If the attack happens, then he’ll decide.

Until then, he’d keep doing what the system assigned.

Work the job. Watch. Wait.

His expression remained blank as his foot landed on the final ledge of the next building. Wind rustled his hoodie again, purple energy now fading as he dialed his aura down to nothing...

"......I should’ve..... stayed and listened," he muttered in slight regret.

A moment later, he added:

"...Could’ve just beat up those idiots and gotten back to listening."

But the thought was half-hearted.

Duty first... I guess...

Even if that duty was a low-paying store job handed to him by the robbing mysterious system.

Kaidren exhaled softly through his nose as the skyline of Block B finally appeared ahead, the Dimerian Store logo barely visible in the distance.

"...Until the attack happens," he told himself in a flat, quiet inner voice,

"...I’ll just live as I do."

________________________________________

The golden haze of late afternoon spilled across the skyline, casting long shadows across the plaza below. Kaidren moved like a whisper between buildings, his violet aura dimmed to a faint shimmer. He landed silently atop a squat rooftop—a small convenience store nestled between taller structures—perching on the edge like a shadow preparing to fade.

From his vantage point, he spotted the low arc of a bridge just ahead, its metal railings glinting under the sun. Signs had started appearing, just as the man in the business suit had told him.

"Once you pass the bridge," the man had said, straightening his tie, "you’ll see the signs for District 2."

Kaidren’s gaze fell on a tall sign jutting out from the streetlamp ahead. District 2 ➜ Block B. He gave a small nod. So he wasn’t lying.

Dust brushed his sleeves as he crouched low, scanning the street below. Though the roads weren’t completely empty, foot traffic was scarce. Good. He didn’t need some pedestrian recording a floating teenager crackling with violet light. Carefully, he descended the side of the convenience store, avoiding the security camera above the side door, and slipped into the narrow alley behind it.

The moment his shoes touched solid ground, he allowed the violet energy to retreat. It peeled back from his skin like water folding into itself, vanishing into his body without a sound. His breathing remained even, pulse steady. The cool air brushed against his now-normal skin, and he exhaled slowly before stepping into the open.

He emerged onto the street with the quiet composure of someone who belonged there, hands in his pockets, head slightly bowed—not enough to look suspicious, but just enough to avoid eye contact. The sidewalks remained empty, though cars still rolled past in sporadic intervals.

He stood at the corner, eyes moving left, then right.

There was still traffic. A slow-moving sedan, a delivery truck farther down, and a bike cruising quietly on the opposite lane. Kaidren waited, his expression unreadable. His black hair fell into place with every breeze that passed, yet his stance remained still—calculated and indifferent.

When the opportunity came, he stepped forward, crossing the road at a calm, steady pace. The white stripes of the crosswalk reflected the warm glow of the setting sun as he moved across them, each step unhurried.

Ahead, the bridge welcomed him.

It wasn’t a grand structure—short, utilitarian, and made of faded concrete with metal railings painted pale blue. The river beneath it shimmered faintly, catching the last traces of daylight. The water sounded clear to Kaidren, even amidst the distant hum of city life. With his heightened senses, it was as if he were standing just above its surface.

Even without activating my esper core... the sound is sharp, he noted, tilting his head slightly. Like a stream playing directly in my ears.

He didn’t mind it. The flow of water had always sounded cleaner than people’s voices.

As he neared the end of the bridge, his eyes flicked to the left—and then stopped.

Across the street stood a small establishment, sandwiched between a bakery and a clothing repair shop. Its signage stood out boldly: Dimerian Store—the letters stylized in sharp, modern fonts, painted in deep red with a faint digital glow.

Kaidren blinked once.

"Oh," he muttered under his breath, the word escaping almost lazily. Then a second phrase followed, dry and low, "How convenient."

There it was. The place the system had assigned him to.

He lingered a moment, letting his gaze rest on the building. There were no guards. No security cameras he could spot immediately. No visible esper presence either. The glass door reflected the road like a dark mirror, and above it, a faint flickering light inside the store suggested it was still open.

Kaidren glanced left. Then right. The coast was clear.

He crossed the road in a few long strides, his posture still casual but alert. Every step was now measured.

No one seemed to notice him.

He arrived at the front of the Dimerian Store and paused just before the door. His black eyes scanned the tinted glass, watching his own reflection—a young man in a pink hoodie, unassuming and unreadable.