“I’ve actually considered the method you’re describing…” I chose my words carefully.

  The reason I never did what Investigator Kong suggested was actually quite simple.

  To most people, my supernatural ability probably seemed like something I was born with—natural, inherent, inextricably tied to who I was. But I had never thought of it that way.

  Why did I awaken to this power? That question had haunted me from the very day it happened. Was it really because I had some innate potential that just happened to surface during puberty? Or had my obsessive habit of “trying to light candles with my mind” actually worked, and with enough persistence, I really had unlocked the ability to control fire?

  Maybe one of my ancestors carried the blood of some demon or deity, and the trait finally manifested in me. Or perhaps I had recently come into contact with some external trigger that caused the awakening—something I simply couldn’t remember.

  I had always felt there was something suspicious about the origin of my power. The moment I fixated on the idea of igniting a candle with my gaze, the corresponding ability appeared. And the speed at which it grew left me both exhilarated and unsettled.

  At first, I was overjoyed by the incredible force that had emerged within me. I practiced in secret over and over, refining how to manipulate it. And during that process, my ability strengthened at an astonishing rate, just like a muscle grows tougher through repeated training.

  But gradually, I noticed something abnormal.

  Even when I wasn’t actively training, my power kept growing on its own. Not as quickly as when I practiced deliberately, but still noticeably. Even if I simply lay on a patch of grass doing nothing, my ability seemed to reinforce itself with every breath I took. Over time, the force expanded to a level that even I no longer fully understood.

  Was this really something that could just casually appear inside an ordinary human being? I often doubted it.

  In many superpower-themed stories, abilities aren’t permanent. They can degrade or vanish due to certain factors. Some stories go even further: the power only manifests during adolescence, and once adulthood arrives, no matter how immense the strength once was, it fades away with time.

  Something gained for no apparent reason could just as easily disappear for no apparent reason.

  I had never treated this mysterious power with any sense of entitlement. I had long since mentally prepared myself for the possibility that one day it might simply stop working. Under that mindset, I naturally refused to view it as my inherent capital, as the foundation I would build the rest of my life upon, or as something I could proudly display in broad daylight for all to see.

  Of course, when the situation truly demanded it, I would cast aside all hesitation and use the power without restraint. When a threat like the fallen demon hunter stood before me, if I wasted time worrying about “what my life would be like tomorrow or the day after,” I might not even survive today.

  And I never intended to take this ability with me to the grave. Though I still regarded its origins with suspicion, what I truly craved was “an adventure that transcended reality.” If, by the time I graduated from university and entered society, I still hadn’t obtained what I sought by chasing urban legends, then I would deliberately reveal my power in front of ordinary people to draw the attention of a supernatural organization.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait that long. Luo Shan found me first.

  Seeing that I had fallen silent for a long time, Investigator Kong kindly offered, “If it’s inconvenient to answer, you don’t have to force yourself.”

  “It’s not that it’s inconvenient… it’s just a long story…”

  Just as I said that, my ears caught an unusual sound.

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  It was the noise of something thick and viscous being violently stirred with a stick—muffled, bizarre, and strangely familiar. The inexplicable sense of recognition made me shut my mouth instantly and turn toward the source.

  Not far away, at the edge of the curb, a small patch of shadow had grown unnaturally dense and deep—so much so that it stood out starkly against the surrounding shade. It spread and swelled like spilled ink pooling across the ground. From within that eerie darkness, one bubbling blister after another rose to the surface, rippling and popping. The sound came from there.

  In the next instant, an enormously thick arm burst out from the shadow. Droplets of inky, tar-like liquid splattered everywhere. The scene was all too familiar—it was exactly how the fallen demon hunter had appeared before me last night. Moments later, an identical demonic monster clawed its way up from beneath the darkness.

  And it didn’t stop there. The same mutation began occurring in every nearby shadow. A second and then a third demon emerged onto the ground. One appeared directly ahead of us, just like the first; the other materialized behind us, cutting off our retreat. Three demons now glared at us with predatory intensity.

  If only one had appeared, I might have thought the fallen demon hunter had somehow revived. But three at once? That could only mean there had never been just one to begin with.

  These three didn’t speak in human words. They emitted low, bestial growls, saliva dripping from their jaws. Perhaps they weren’t transformed humans at all.

  So the fallen demon hunter incident wasn’t over after all.

  What was their purpose in appearing here? Revenge for last night? Was the target only me, or did it include Investigator Kong as well?

  Did this have anything to do with the grudge between me and the fallen demon hunter?

  What terrible timing. If I had been alone, fine—but Investigator Kong wasn’t built for combat.

  Seeing the scene unfold, his voice began to tremble. “Z…”

  “Investigator Kong, I’ll handle them. Watch for an opening and run.”

  I wasn’t certain whether these three possessed different abilities from the one last night, so I didn’t promise anything absolute.

  “…No. Looking at their formation, there’s no way I can escape.” Investigator Kong steadied himself and drew a handgun from inside his coat.

  I couldn’t help glancing over. It was a long-barreled gray revolver engraved with strange, irregular symbols—an emergency weapon clearly designed to deal with anomalies.

  “This is standard issue for Luo Shan probes. It’s not exactly impressive, but it’ll have to do for now.” He forced calm into his voice. “Next, we should—”

  He seemed about to discuss how we would coordinate, but reality wasn’t turn-based. The enemies didn’t politely wait for us to finish planning.

  Before he could finish speaking, all three charged at once.

  At the same moment, I snapped my gaze back to them and activated my power.

  The demon at the very front—the one leading the frontal assault—was instantly set ablaze from within. It erupted into a roaring torch, as though drenched in gasoline.

  The drawback to igniting targets with my gaze was that I could only focus on one at a time.

  The principle behind the skill was essentially transferring my mind—or more precisely, my attention—onto the target.

  When people talk about “shifting one’s mind to something,” they often mean “directing one’s attention toward it.” Humans are visual creatures; when we fix our gaze on a specific object, we direct our focus there.

  That’s why eyes are often called the windows to the soul: wherever the gaze goes, the spirit follows. The point of concentration is where the mind settles.

  Although fire allowed me to extend the reach of my “gaze” far beyond normal physiological limits—into the realm of supernatural perception—the fundamental logic still applied as long as I remained human. No one can focus their eyes in multiple directions simultaneously, and likewise, my “point of attention”—my “anchor of spirit”—could only exist in one place at a time.

  The second demon charging from the front immediately used its burning comrade as a shield, shoving the flaming body ahead of itself to continue the assault. It would inevitably get scorched by its own ally, but it successfully avoided my direct line of sight.

  From that reaction, it was clear they knew my gaze could serve as a medium for flame attacks. Somehow, they had obtained information about last night’s battle. Yet they still didn’t realize that the reach of my flames was the same as the reach of my gaze.

  Moreover, just because my gaze-ignition skill could only target one enemy at a time didn’t mean I could only use one technique at a time.

  I had resorted to that skill reflexively because it was the first application I ever mastered—and the one I was most comfortable with. The moment I saw them move, muscle memory took over.

  But even as I used it, I swiftly raised my right hand. From my palm, I summoned a tiny “firefly.”

  Massive mental energy poured into it. The firefly swelled rapidly into a giant fireball and detonated in a self-destructive burst.

  A tidal wave of flames surged outward in every direction, instantly engulfing all three demons attacking from front and rear. The area around me transformed into a blazing inferno; the overwhelming light temporarily blinded normal human vision.

  This time, with Investigator Kong needing protection nearby, I didn’t hold back or treat the fight lightly. I poured genuine intent to annihilate into the flames.

  Under the crushing impact of destructive fire, the three charging demons were swept up like fish caught in a raging current—utterly helpless.

  They didn’t even last long enough for a single blink. In an instant, they were reduced to drifting ash.