My phone buzzed. Unknown number. I glanced at the screen.

  

  You’re getting better at waiting.

  Let’s see how far that goes.

  No countdown. No grand statement. No blood. Just a message and a map with two points. One in a residential block, the other in a commercial district. Ordinary places, wrong in the way only traps ever are.

  I read it twice.

  “Two locations,” Tatsuya said. His voice was flat, clinical. “Likely simultaneous. No guarantees either way.”

  “And he’s narrowing the options,” I muttered, irritation curling in my chest.

  Tatsuya turned the screen toward me. The two dots glared like red-hot pinpricks against the pale map. Both were reachable, but only one in time.

  “You can only make it to one,” he said. “He wants to see which you choose. Instinct or restraint. Speed or control.”

  “And if I do not choose?”

  “Then he chooses for you.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Doom remained still, and its absence pressed against me more than any threat ever had.

  I exhaled slowly. My pulse was steady, too steady.

  “Residential block,” I said finally. More people, more chaos, higher probability of casualties.

  Tatsuya nodded once, neutral. “That means the other location...”

  “I know,” I said.

  The apartment building was old, paint peeling, faint smells of damp carpeting clinging to the walls. Lights flickered behind half-drawn curtains, hinting at lives stacked floor by floor. Too normal, too mundane.

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  I took the stairs, faster, quieter. Each step sounded louder than it should, echoing down the narrow hallway. My hands itched, energy humming beneath my skin. Doom stirred faintly, a murmur at the edge of my awareness. I did not push it away. Not yet.

  The door to one apartment was ajar. I paused just outside, breathing shallow. Inside, the air smelled wrong, metallic and chemical. The kitchen looked like a warzone in miniature. A woman lay sprawled on the floor, barely moving. Blood pooled beneath her.

  Alive.

  I dropped beside her. Hands glowing, I poured magic into her. Her shallow breaths deepened slightly. Not enough to fix her, but enough to keep her alive.

  Her eyes were wide, wild, uncertain.

  “He… he said…” she whispered. “I… I cannot…”

  I did not wait for clarity. “Stay with me,” I said. Practical, focused. The panic in her gaze was a distraction I could not afford.

  Minutes later, medics arrived. She was stabilized and taken to the hospital. Almost every bone broken, bruises and burns layered across her body. She would survive, but slowly, painfully. She had no idea I came. No relief, no gratitude, just terror and confusion.

  Tatsuya’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “Confirmation from the second site.”

  I already knew.

  “Male. Late twenties. Found dead on arrival. Time of death ten minutes ago.”

  Ten minutes. I had been here for twelve.

  My chest tightened. Not from guilt, these were strangers. People I did not know. He had gone after random targets now, instead of someone I cared about. What was he trying to prove? That he could kill anyone, anywhere, without hesitation? That he was testing boundaries rather than me personally?

  I wanted him to go after people I knew. That way, there would be meaning. Not this. Meaningless slaughter. He was proving he could go as far as he wanted, with no hesitation, no pattern, no regard for consequence.

  I exhaled slowly, letting the cold air settle in my lungs. Doom stirred faintly. The familiar pull that had always been a warning or a temptation lingered now like a shadow just behind my vision. I did not push it away. Not yet.

  Outside, the night felt colder than it should have. I watched the ambulance leave, red and white lights flickering across the wet asphalt. Life went on. The killer was proving a point. I was forced to watch, powerless in the larger scheme but calculating every detail.

  Tatsuya met me at the curb. One look at my face was enough.

  “He wanted this outcome,” he said quietly. “A survivor and a body. Proof, not chaos.”

  I nodded. Measured, calculating, frustrated. Angry. Interested. But there was a nagging sensation I could not place. Something was off.

  I should have felt guilt, horror, or sorrow. I should have at least flinched. Instead, I felt… nothing. It made my stomach tighten in a way that was not fear or anger. Something was missing. Something crucial.

  And as we walked back, Doom stirred faintly inside me. I felt it whispering, waiting. Testing. Something had shifted, and I realized that I did not yet understand what had changed within me.