The Shadow That Watches

Noah had never been more conscious of his own being.

The pressure of his body, the beat of his breathing, the subtle throb of his heart—it all felt keener, as if his senses had been readjusted.

But it wasn't clarity.

It was terror.

He had taken something that was never his.

And now, whoever it belonged to—whoever was supposed to hold this power—was waking up.

Noah had no idea what that was.

But he knew one thing.

His time was up.

---

Unwanted Visitors

Noah's body still throbbed from the Collector's presence when he came home that evening.

He locked the door behind him, bracing himself against it, forcing his breathing to calm.

The air in his tiny apartment was still. Quiet.

Too quiet.

Noah's skin crawled.

He wasn't alone.

His gaze flicked to the shadow in the black window—just a vague shape, standing by the corner of the room.

Noah shifted.

Quickly.

He turned, muscles coiled to strike—

Only to realize nothing was there.

The room was vacant.

But the presence lingered.

Something had been present.

Or perhaps, it still was.

Noah slowly let out his breath, pushing himself toward his bed. He didn't change—just flopped onto the mattress, eyes staring at the ceiling.

Sleep didn't arrive easily.

And when it did—

The dreams followed.

---

The Dream That Wasn't a Dream

Noah stood in an empty void.

No sound. No color. Just infinite nothingness.

Then—

A whisper.

A voice, heard almost not at all, yet somehow bearing down on his mind from every side.

"You took what was mine."

Noah spun around, but there was no one there.

Just the void going on forever.

The whisper returned—this time closer.

"You wear my strength like it belongs to you."

Noah's face hardened. "Who are you?"

Silence.

Then—

A form coalesced out of the blackness.

Noah tensed.

It wasn't human.

Not quite.

The figure resembled a twisted image of himself—his height, his build—but its boundaries were all awry. Flickering. Like a TV screen full of static barely clinging to coherence.

And its eyes—

They blazed.

Not fire.

But something more.

Something ancient.

Something angry.

"I am the rightful owner."

The words hurtled into Noah's head like a sledgehammer.

His head throbbed, his vision reeled—

The emptiness around him distorted—

And suddenly—

He was plummeting.

---

The System's Betrayal

Noah awoke with a harsh gasp.

His body was soaked in sweat, his heart racing wildly.

But he wasn't in his bed.

He was standing.

In the middle of his room.

His breath stalled.

When had he gotten there?

Then—

A ding reverberated within his mind.

His system.

But this time—

The messages weren't regular.

[WARNING: SYSTEM MALFUNCTION]

[UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED]

[ATTEMPTING TO REVOKE HOST PERMISSIONS.]

Noah's blood went cold.

The system was attempting to eject him.

He backed away, clenching his head.

"No," he snarled through clenched teeth. "I won't let you."

But the messages continued to arrive.

[ORIGINAL HOST AWAKENING.]

[SYSTEM RECALL IN PROCESS.]

Noah's eyes went dim. His body felt heavy.

His stats—

They were dwindling.

Strength. Speed. Endurance.

All falling.

As if the system was being yanked out of him.

"No—!"

He struggled to move, to resist whatever was occurring.

But his body wouldn't obey.

His strength—his speed—all that he had constructed—

It was all ebbing away.

As if it never had.

Because it hadn't.

It was a dawning realization.

He was losing the system.

And the actual owner—

Was going to reclaim it.

---

The Figure in the Rain

Noah wasn't certain how long he leaned there, white-knuckling the corner of his desk, gasping as if he'd run for miles.

But sooner or later—

The system leveled out.

His stats no longer plummeted.

A last message flashed into sight.

[TEMPORARY HOST STATUS SUSTAINED]

[RIGHTFUL OWNER FOUND]

Noah's stomach churned.

The rightful owner was present.

Somewhere close by.

Watching.

Waiting.

Noah pushed the panic down.

If someone was coming for him—if they were going to reclaim what was his—

Then he needed to be prepared.

He wasn't losing everything.

Not now.

Not ever.

A sharp knock at his door stopped him in his tracks.

Noah turned, heart racing.

It was late. Past midnight.

No one should be here.

The knock repeated.

Slow. Measured.

Noah swallowed hard.

Then—

A third knock.

And this time—

A voice followed.

Low. Calm.

But carrying something beneath it.

Something terrifying.

"Noah Carter."

Noah's breath hitched.

"I've been looking for you."

And just like that—

His nightmare had become reality.

---