Daily Quest

Noise.

That was the first thing Kael noticed.

Not the wind. Not the birds. Not the hum of street traffic. Just a sharp mechanical buzzing, like some machine flickering on deep inside his head.

He winced, pressing a hand to his temple.

"Not again," he muttered, his voice low and rough from exhaustion.

The noise never stopped. It wasn't outside. It lived inside him, a constant background hum like an overloaded system running behind his thoughts. Like static in his soul.

His eyes stung. Tears welled up for no clear reason, slipping down his cheeks before he could stop them.

"Get out of my head," he whispered, his voice barely steady.

Nothing answered.

Kael sat up slowly, every muscle of his aching from another night on cold concrete. The rusted steel beams around him dug into his jacket. Even breathing felt heavy.

He looked down at the mask in his lap. The soft gray filter lined with cheap nanofiber. It blocked the worst of the city's poison, but more than that—more importantly—it hid him.

He hadn't put it on yet. The morning air was cold but clean enough for once, prompting him not to.

Across, a dark window caught his reflection.

He looked pale and hollow-eyed. His hair tangled and wild over his forehead.

"I look like crap," he muttered. "Like trash no one bothered to throw out."

He pulled the mask over his face, tightening the strap behind his ears. It was almost second nature now.

Kael. The Monster.

God, even thinking the name made his stomach turn.

And as if to make his day any worse, the notification screen blinked into view—

[SYSTEM ONLINE]

[Daily Quest: Incapacitate the Egoist]

[Reward: +5 MP]

"....?!"

Kael froze.

The message popped into his vision like a whisper demanding attention.

"What the hell now?" he whispered, annoyed and utterly worn out.

No voice replied. Just the words still hanging plain in his vision.

"Egoist? MP?" he continued. "What does that even mean anymore?"

No answer came.

But deep down, he already knew. He just wished he didn't.

MP meant Mortus Points. In other words, the System's idea of currency.

Not gold. Not credits. Not even time.

Death. That's what it dealt in.

Every point was proof that he'd walked the line again. Proof he'd taken something, ended something, guided something into silence.

+5 MP didn't mean power. It meant he'd get a little stronger, sure, but at a cost.

There was always a cost.

Sometimes it was a soul laid to rest.

Sometimes it was a scream that never stopped echoing.

Sometimes it was someone who didn't deserve it.

Kael exhaled sharply through his nose.

Mortus Points. Strength. Endurance. Willpower.

The System dressed it all up like a gift.

But it never gave anything for free.

The message blinked out, leaving the buzzing louder as if mocking him.

He rubbed his temples again, shaking his head.

This wasn't new. It never was. It wasn't the first time and it definitely wouldn't be the last, either. But every time it did happen, it felt like a fresh kind of torture.

He stood up, stretching out the stiffness in his legs.

Outside, the city was waking up, completely indifferent to the chaos inside his head.

Store signs lit up one by one.

Buses rumbled awake, coughing smoke into the air. Streetlights flickered in the morning fog.

Nearby, a vendor pulled open a rusty shutter.

The sound echoed through the alley.

Kael kept his hood low, his eyes down, and mask snug over his mouth and nose.

People gave him space. Not in a kind way. More like they were instinctively uncomfortable. Like they could sense he didn't belong.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a smudged window across the street. He stood pale skinned, hollow-eyed, his hair clinging to his forehead like someone who'd just stepped out of a storm.

"Maybe they're right," he muttered. "Maybe I'm not supposed to be here."

A burst of laughter broke the silence.

Down the street, a group of teens zipped past on rollerblades. Not the kind familiar in today's world. These were modded, sleek metal frames with little boosters on the sides. The kind of tech you could only get secondhand from a guy who knew a guy. When they kicked off, the wheels lifted just enough to hover over the pavement, leaving short trails of light in their wake.

One of them, a broad-shouldered guy in a red hoodie, cruised by with confident strides. When he kicked off, his heavy frame didn't slow him down. He launched into a powerful spin mid-air, twisting with surprising agility before landing solidly. People around him clapped. Someone even whistled.

He looked over his shoulder at a girl with wild orange hair and a long coat. The move had been for her.

She kept walking, calm and focused, flipping through a book without lifting her eyes.

She didn't smile.

But she didn't look away either.

Kael watched her longer than he meant to.

Then—

Thump.

A red ball rolled to his feet, wobbling slightly before stopping by his boot.

"Yo!" someone called out. "Mind tossing that back?"

Kael looked up to see who had spoken to him, only to see a boy skating his way. He had short, scruffy hair, grinning like he didn't have a care in the world. He pointed at the ball.

Kael picked it up. "Might be radioactive," he muttered.

The boy laughed. "Only a little. Go on then, throw it."

Kael tossed it back light, or so he thought.

A second later, he winced. The sound of impact hit him first. The boy dropped with a solid whump, knocked flat on his back.

Kael stepped forward, alarmed.

He hadn't thrown it that hard. He was barely at strength six the last time he checked The System.

But the ball had hit like a cannon.

Kael muttered, "...Sorry. Are you okay?"

The boy didn't move right away. Just lay there, staring up at the sky with wide eyes and a confused look like he'd just been tackled by a truck. For a moment, there was just the sound of wind and shifting gravel. Then he let out a low groan, followed by laughter.

"Dude!" he wheezed between chuckles. "Holy—I think I just met my ancestors."

The boy sat up, grinning, and scrambled to his feet, brushing gravel from his shirt and jeans. "You've got a serious arm, man. You tryna get me admitted to a hospital or what?" Orenji asked, rubbing his chest.

Kael didn't blink. "No. Just… miscalculated."

Orenji chuckled, half-laugh, half-gasp. "Miscalculated? Bro, that was a ballistic missile you threw my way."

Kael didn't reply. The boy remained still, tense. He wasn't defensive, neither was he apologetic, just watching. An unreadable silence hung between the both of them.

Orenji picked up the ball where it had rolled with a sigh, turning it in his hands. "Guess I'll count that as cardio then," he joked.

He held out his hand. "I'm Orenji, by the way."

There was a pause before Kael moved. He looked at the ball, then at Orenji, his expression unreadable. His hands stayed at his sides.

"…Kael," he mumbled at last, his voice low and rough, like it hadn't been used in a while.

Orenji nodded like he already knew. "Nice. Short. Sharp. Immovable like a rock. I like it."

He took Kael's hand in a handshake.

Their forced grip was brief. Kael's hold was cold, not in temperature but in presence like someone who wasn't used to human contact, or maybe didn't trust it. Orenji noticed it, but didn't press. He let it go.

"You new here?" he asked, tilting his head. "Don't think I've seen you around these parts."

Kael shook his head. "Does it matter?"

Orenji shrugged. "Nah. You just look like someone trying real hard not to be noticed."

Kael glanced down at himself. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, his mask snug against his jaw. Layers of dark fabric wrapped around him like armor. More to hide than to protect.

Kael wasn't surprised by the comment. Just surprised it showed that much.

He narrowed his eyes.

"…Maybe."

Orenji chuckled.

"You've got that vibe, y'know? Quiet loner. Probably got some mysterious power or trauma or whatever. Real main-character energy."

Kael gave him a sidelong look, unsure whether to take that as a jab or not. Orenji just smiled, easy and unbothered.

"No offense," he added, shrugging. "I used to be like that too."

Kael's voice dropped quieter. "You're not now?"

"Eh. Depends on the day."

They stood in silence for a moment, the sun stretching their shadows across the broken pavement. Kael shifted his weight awkwardly, like he wasn't used to conversation—or being noticed.

Probably both.

Moments after their hands had parted, Orenji had felt it. The unexpected strength from someone with a build like Kael's. Now, he flexed his fingers slowly, curling and stretching them as if to make sure he hadn't imagined it. That grip had been too strong to ignore.

He broke the silence, casual as ever as if masking the edge in his voice. "You've got a strong arm, though. Like, weirdly strong. Funny I should ask..." he glanced at Kael, trying to read him, "...you do sports?"

Kael blinked, once. "Not really," he muttered. "Used to run. Nothing serious."

His voice was flat, but something in the way he said it made Orenji pause.

Kael didn't meet his eyes. His gaze drifted to the ground, distant. Like the word 'run' meant more than just a sport.

There was a pause.

"Sometimes," Kael added, quieter now, "you run without knowing where you're going. You just... move. And when you stop, it's somewhere you don't recognize. Somewhere you didn't choose."

He shrugged like it meant nothing, but the twitch in his jaw said otherwise.

Orenji didn't speak. He just watched.

"Huh." Orenji tilted his head. "Could've fooled me."

"Grip like that," he went on, keeping his tone light, "you'd think you were hiding a gym under all that quiet."

Kael didn't smile. "Guess I'm just built different."

Orenji chuckled, but there was no warmth behind it. Yeah. Built different, he thought. That much is obvious.

Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he leaned in, close enough to watch Kael's pupils shift. "Hmm. Let me guess—secret vigilante? Alien experiment gone wrong? The Foundation, maybe?"

It was a joke. The line was supposed to be a joke but Kael flinched, almost too subtly to notice. Almost.

Orenji noticed.

He didn't let on. He didn't show it. Just stepped back, letting the tension slip away like it didn't bother him.

"Just kidding," he said, raising his hands with a crooked smile. "You don't strike me as the alien type. Maybe cryptid, at best. But hey, if you ever wanna actually play, y'know, without trying to murder me, let me know."

Kael stared at him, completely still. "…You sure do talk a lot."

Orenji grinned. "Only when someone's more silent than I am. That's rare. So rare infact. . ."

He let the thought hang, his gaze narrowing just slightly.

"…It makes me wonder."

Kael didn't look away now. His stare stayed locked. His jaw tight. And his fingers twitching slightly, like he was holding something back.

Like part of him was ready to strike.

Then—

Clank.

"...."

The sound of heavy boots, metal against concrete, echoed down the street.

Orenji turned.

So did Kael.

Three figures emerged from the fog.

Two of them were in old, reinforced police gear. Exo-suits, nothing fancy. Green lights blinked on the sides of their helmets, scanning as they walked. But the thing between them wasn't human.

A Centurion.

Nine feet tall with jet-black armor, red lights pulsed across its chest and shoulders. Its movements were slow, yet mechanical. Every step it took, releasing a hiss of pressurized air. 

In its chest was a cockpit where a pilot could sit, controlling the machine.

Its arms ended in strange, claw-like grips. A weapon pod sat in its back, dormant… for now.

Kael felt his stomach drop.

The Centurion's scanner gave a low whine as it swept the street, pausing on him for half a second too long.

Then—

Tti-ring!

[DAILY QUEST: INCAPACITATE THE EGOIST]

Again.

The message pulsed before his eyes like a judgment.

Only this time...

[TIMER INITIATED — 00:59:59]

Kael's stomach lurched.

'Come again?'

His eyes widened, every muscle in his body locking still.

No glitch. No warning.

This wasn't just a prompt.

It was a demand.

The System had spoken.

[INCAPACITATE THE EGOIST]

Kael's eyes flicked toward the towering Centurion.

Then to Orenji.

His chest tightened.

The Egoist… who the hell was the Egoist?

Was it the machine?

Was it him?

The silence around him thickened, pulsing in time with the ticking clock in his vision. The seconds marched forward, steady and unfeeling.

[TIMER — 00:59:45]

He clenched his jaw. His fingers twitched.

Kael questioned it almost every day now—the orders, the motives, the toll etched into his slowly dismantling body.

It never explained anything. It simply delivered ultimatums.

This time, though…

It was personal. It was vague. It was deliberate.

And it was counting down, like The System's had enough of his constant refusals.

[TIMER — 00:59:32]

A cold bead of sweat traced down his temple.

His heart drummed against his ribs, not in panic, but in dread.

Why was The System counting down now? What happened if he failed to obey?

No. Not if.

When.

Because how was he supposed to act without knowing the target?

What did The System mean by 'Incapacitate?'

[TIMER — 00:59:17]

Kael took one step back, unnoticed.

His breath stuttered.

Every instinct screamed at him to move. To do something. Anything. But his body, his will, had frozen.

He glanced again at the Centurion. Its armor glinted beneath the flickering light.

Then at Orenji.

Was the Egoist a literal enemy? Or was this a test?

A trap?

Himself?

Was he the egoist?

[TIMER — 00:59:05]

A sharp buzz rang in his ears.

The countdown wasn't just tracking time. It was dragging him into a decision he wasn't ready to make.

[TIMER — 00:58:51]

His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.

He hated this.

The System didn't care for clarity or conscience.

It didn't care who got hurt.

It only cared that he complied.

Kael's gaze snapped back to the screen hovering in front of him, its cold glow searing into his mind.

The System was waiting.

Expecting.

Demanding.

And deep down… Kael knew:

There would be no running from it.

Not this time.

< Chapter Seven > Fin.