One Chew Man

The sky cracked open like someone split a painting.

Light spilled down—not warm, not golden, but cold and silver, like moonlight dipped in ice water.

A giant sigil flickered into existence midair. Glowed. Fizzled. Then popped like a bubble.

Nothing happened.

Then—

BOOM.

A crater appeared in the middle of the market. No flash, no warning. Just gone. Stalls, lanterns, a very confused donkey—all wiped clean like someone hit delete.

And in the center?

A man.

Cloak like a shadow. Hair like ink poured over snow. Eyes shut, hands in sleeves, just standing there while wind coiled around him like it was scared to touch.

People ran. Screamed. Someone threw a cabbage.

Adam reappeared mid-bite beside the same pastry stall. Still chewing.

He glanced sideways. "What, again?"

The shadowy guy didn't move. Didn't even breathe. Just opened one eye.

Crack.