Daniel felt the change before he saw it.

  A soft, electric ripple slid behind his eyes — not painful, not alarming, just… present. Like a new layer of awareness settling into place. Something was installing itself into him, threading quietly through his nerves.

  He stayed still.

  Not out of fear, but because staying still was what he did best.

  Around him, his friends were already stressed, heads bowed over their smartwatches as they tried to reach their families.

  Keith tapped his screen repeatedly. “Why isn’t this sending? Mom’s gonna think I died.”

  Soren shook his wrist. “Mine’s stuck on ‘connecting.’ It won’t even load my contacts.”

  Charice exhaled slowly, trying to stay composed. “Signal’s dead everywhere. I can’t reach my sister.”

  Daniel didn’t want to add to their worry.

  So he said nothing.

  A faint lattice of light spread across his vision, overlaying the world without blocking it. He could still see the overlook, the sky, his friends — everything looked normal.

  Except for the glowing text that appeared in the center of his sight:

  [SYSTEM — INITIALIZING]

  Daniel’s heartbeat didn’t even change. Keith glanced up. “You good, man?” Daniel nodded once. “Yeah. Just thinking.” The HUD flickered again.

  [SYNCHRONIZING NEURAL INPUT…]

  [INSTALLING MODULES…]

  Daniel breathed evenly, letting the strange sensation settle. If something was happening to him, panicking wouldn’t help. He’d figure it out. Quietly. Rationally.

  He shifted his gaze toward Keith — and a bracketed label snapped into existence above his friend’s head:

  [KEITH — ?]

  Daniel didn’t flinch. He simply observed it, the way he observed everything. The bracket glitched, then expanded into a new page:

  [SYSTEM ENTRY: KEITH]

  Known Data:

  — Favorite headphones: anything with bass that rattles his skull

  — Current smartwatch: embarrassingly outdated

  — Friendship status: Confirmed 12 years

  — Additional data: …loading…

  Daniel exhaled slowly through his nose. Okay. So it’s reading people. Or reading me reading people. Keith didn’t notice a thing — he was too busy muttering at his watch. “Come on, Mom, answer…” Soren groaned. “Mine froze. I swear it hates me.”

  Daniel kept his expression neutral, his breathing steady, his posture relaxed. He didn’t want to draw attention. He didn’t want to worry them. He just needed to understand what was happening. Then the HUD pulsed again.

  [USER TIP: INTERACT TO CONTINUE]

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed slightly. Interact how? He focused and imagined moving the screen with his mind— and the HUD twitched, like it recognized the what he was imagining. Interesting. Charice stepped closer, still frustrated with her watch. “Daniel? You’re awfully quiet.” “Just thinking,” he said calmly. She studied him for a moment, then nodded. And then — as if responding to his attention — another bracketed label appeared above her head. Daniel remained composed. But curiosity tugged at him, steady and controlled. He lifted his hand. Just a small motion. Just enough to test the system. And that’s when everything went horribly, hilariously wrong. Daniel focused on the bracket hovering above Charice’s head —

  [CHARICE — ?]

  — and curiosity finally won. He lifted his hand, slow and subtle, just enough to see if the HUD would react the way it had with Keith. Unfortunately, Charice chose that exact moment to step forward. His hand missed the floating text entirely… and landed on her chest, Charice froze. Daniel froze harder. Keith looked up from his unresponsive smartwatch and immediately choked on a laugh. “Bro. BRO.” Daniel jerked his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “I— I WAS— REACHING FOR— SOMETHING—” Charice blinked at him, confused. “Reaching for what!?” Charice covering her chest. Daniel pointed helplessly at the empty air above her head. “There was— it was— a thing. A… word thing.” Soren raised an eyebrow. “A word thing.”

  “Yes!” Daniel insisted, trying to keep his voice calm. “It was right there. Brackets. Floating.”

  Keith snorted. “So your excuse is you were trying to grab punctuation.” Daniel covered his face with both hands. “I want to evaporate.” Soren patted his back. “If it helps, this will haunt you forever.” “It does not help.” Daniel said turning around, pretending nothing happened. Ronan then smacked Daniel behind the head. "What the hell?! Ronan said as he stared at Daniel with a confused looked. Daniel, just rubbing the back of his head. Daniel wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

  Keith was still wheezing. Soren was smirking like he’d just witnessed a historic event. Charice was giving him that look — the one halfway between confusion and “I’m choosing to be patient, but you’re on thin ice.” Daniel kept his face neutral.

  The HUD flickered, the previous text dissolving into something new:

  [NEW FUNCTION UNLOCKED]

  SCAN

  Information: Hold gaze to identify target.

  He didn’t react. No flinch. No hesitation. Just quiet observation. A faint pressure settled behind his eyes — not painful, not bright, just a gentle pull, like the system was paying attention to whatever he focused on. Daniel lowered his gaze to the dirt path, letting his attention settle on a pebble instead of a person. The HUD responded instantly:

  [TARGET: ROCK]

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Analyzing…

  …

  …

  Result: Irrelevant object.

  Information: Please select a meaningful target.

  Daniel exhaled slowly through his nose. Keith glanced back. “You’re quiet, man.” “Just thinking,” Daniel said. The subtle pressure behind his eyes returned — a soft nudge, encouraging him to look at something else. Something important. He kept his gaze low, steady, controlled. But the trail curved. And Charice stepped directly into his line of sight. The pressure sharpened, like the system was leaning forward. Daniel’s breath stayed even. Not her. Soren slowed his pace, scanning the street ahead. The city was still in full disarray — alarms blaring in the distance, traffic lights frozen on conflicting signals, storefront signs flickering like they were glitching out. People shouted across intersections, trying to make sense of the outage.

  “We should head back to Ronan’s family’s house,” Soren said, voice steady despite the noise. “At least until we figure out what’s going on.”

  Keith nodded immediately. “Yeah. Good call. At least his place is sturdy. Everything else feels like it’s falling apart.”

  Charice didn’t comment. She had one arm wrapped around Naya’s shoulders, guiding her along the cracked sidewalk. Naya leaned into her, arms folded tightly against herself, still shaken from everything that had happened inside the store. Charice kept her close, steady, protective — a calm anchor in the middle of the chaos. “It’s not far,” Charice said, her voice soft but firm. “Fifteen minutes if the streets aren’t blocked.” Naya nodded, eyes low. “I… I just want to get off the street.”

  “You’re okay,” Charice murmured, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “We’re all together.” Daniel walked a few steps behind them, calm and quiet. The strange pressure behind his eyes lingered, but he ignored it. He wasn’t giving the system anything right now.

  Soren glanced back at him. “You good with that plan?” Daniel nodded once. “Makes sense.” They crossed an intersection where all four traffic lights were stuck on green. Cars honked, swerved, stalled. A bus sat sideways in the road, hazard lights blinking in a broken rhythm. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm wailed nonstop. The group kept moving, weaving through the confusion. Daniel stayed steady, composed, watching the world with a new kind of awareness he didn’t ask for. Whatever was happening, Ronan’s house was the right call. For now. As the group walked on, Ronan was close to Charice and Naya, being protective. Keith and Soren were talking about what the plan was as they were the smartest ones in the group. Daniel was walking behind them, wondering about what was happening to him. He lifted up his sleeve a bit to take a look at his arm still glowing. The group pushed down the sidewalk, weaving around stalled cars and people arguing over dead phones. A streetlight above them flickered in a rapid, uneven stutter, like it was trying to blink out a warning.

  Daniel barely noticed. His focus had turned inward. That faint pressure behind his eyes pulsed again — not painful, just insistent, like someone tapping a finger against the inside of his skull. He exhaled slowly, letting the noise of the city fade into the background.

  Under his jacket sleeve, the glow returned. Soft at first. Then brighter. A thin line of light traced along the inside of his forearm, following the shape of circuitry that shouldn’t exist. It pulsed in a slow rhythm, almost like it was breathing with him.

  Daniel kept his arm close to his side, hidden from the others. He flexed his fingers once. The glow responded — a faint shimmer, like it was listening. He swallowed. What's happening to me…? Charice’s voice cut through the haze. “Daniel? You okay back there?” She stared at Daniel for a moment. He blinked, the glow softening under his sleeve as if it sensed her attention. “Yeah,” he said, steady as ever. “Just thinking.” Soren glanced over his shoulder. “Stay close. Streets are getting worse.”

  Daniel nodded, falling back into step with them. But the glow didn’t fade completely. It lingered — warm, protective, almost… alert. Like it was waiting for him to acknowledge it. Like it was ready to act. A prickle ran across Daniel’s skin, sudden and cold, like the air itself had changed around him. He stopped mid?step without knowing why. It wasn’t a sound or a sight or anything he could point to. It was a feeling. A quiet pressure in his chest. A tightening in his breath. A sense of something coming before it arrived.

  His eyes drifted toward the empty corner of the street, drawn by instinct alone. A heartbeat later, the red lights appeared — three Visidrones rounding the corner, flying low, their lenses glowing with that familiar AI red. The others only noticed them once they were fully in view. But Daniel had felt them long before that. Not with his eyes. Not with his ears. With something new. Something instinctive. Something that felt like a sixth sense. The hum reached them first — a thin, wavering buzz that barely rose above the noise of the street. Daniel felt it before he heard it, that same tightening in his chest, that instinctive pull telling him something was coming. He slowed. A moment later, the Visidrones drifted into view.

  They rounded the corner in a loose formation, hovering low over the stalled traffic. Up close, they looked less like machines and more like floating mechanical eyeballs — smooth, spherical bodies with a single red lens dominating the front, glowing like a pupil fixed in permanent alertness. Thin stabilizer fins twitched at their sides, adjusting their position with tiny, insect?like movements.

  Their red lenses swept across the street in slow, deliberate arcs, scanning everything with an unblinking stare. One of them paused mid?air. Its lens dilated with a soft mechanical click, focusing directly on Daniel. The others kept moving, but this one hovered perfectly still, its red glow brightening as if it had found something it wasn’t programmed to understand. Daniel’s arm warmed under his sleeve. That sense — that impossible awareness — tightened again. It sees me. Not the group. Not the chaos. Him. Visidrones weren’t built to intimidate — at least, not officially.

  Their purpose was practical. They hovered through the city like floating mechanical eyeballs, scanning everything with their unblinking red lenses. Thin beams of light swept over stalled cars, damaged intersections, and clusters of people, gathering data in real time. When they detected blocked roads, injured civilians, or structural hazards, they relayed the information instantly to the city’s emergency network.

  First responders relied on them. The drones mapped safe routes, flagged danger zones, and guided ambulances and fire crews through the chaos with eerie precision. In normal times, they were the quiet backbone of the city’s emergency response — always watching, always reporting, always one step ahead. But tonight, something was off. Their scans lingered too long. Their movements were jerky, uncertain. The nearest Visidrone dipped lower, its red lens narrowing as it tracked Daniel’s movement. The air around him felt charged, like the moment before something breaks.

  Daniel steadied himself.

  That strange sense of direction tugged at his awareness again — subtle, instinctive, impossible to explain. He focused on it, trying to lean into whatever was happening inside him. Daniel focused on the Visidrone

  [SCAN]

  The moment the word formed, the world sharpened.

  A translucent tag snapped into place above the hovering mechanical eyeball:

  [Visidrone – Lv.5]

  Daniel blinked, startled. The tag didn’t vanish. It followed the drone’s movements with perfect precision, anchored to it like a nameplate. Another drone swooped in from the right.

  [Visidrone – Lv.5]

  A third drifted overhead, stabilizers whining

  [Visidrone – Lv.5]

  Daniel’s breath caught—not from fear, but from recognition. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t a hallucination. This was a basic skill. Instinctive. Automatic. A part of him now. Time thinned around him, the world stretching into a pale blue stillness. The drones hung in the air like frozen frames. Daniel’s breath hovered in his chest, suspended. Then the images hit. His left arm raised. Blue lightning gathering beneath his skin. A crackling arc snapping outward in a clean, controlled strike. Not a memory. Not a vision. A skill.

  A bracket pulsed into existence at the edge of his awareness:

  [Skill Unlocked: Arc Lash]

  The name resonated through him — instinctive, precise, like it had always been there waiting for him to notice it. The stance. The angle. The release. All of it flashed through his mind in a single, perfect instant. Time snapped back. The drones moved again.

  The street roared to life. Daniel raised his left arm — exactly as the image had shown him. Blue light sparked beneath his skin. Arc Lash was ready.