The streets lay quiet beneath the dim glow of flickering streetlamps, their light stretching into long, uneven shadows across the pavement. A faint chill lingered in the night air, carrying the distant hum of a city that no longer felt entirely familiar.
Adrian walked steadily along the roadside, a small bag of groceries hanging loosely from his hand, his steps unhurried despite the subtle tension that seemed to cling to everything around him. It had only been a week since the world had changed—since people began whispering that the gods themselves had granted mortals power, gifting them with something now called mana.
'Gods granting power…'
The thought lingered, uncertain and unfinished.
Many dismissed it outright, calling it absurd, something born from fear and mass hysteria rather than truth. Others insisted it was a curse, a hidden calamity waiting to reveal its cost, while some clung to the idea that this was simply the next stage of human evolution, a natural step forward for mankind.
Yet for all the arguments, all the fear and speculation, no disaster had followed. No divine punishment, no immediate collapse—only a quiet, unsettling normalcy that allowed people to accept it, if only on the surface.
So they adapted.
Or at least… they pretended to.
Adrian paid little attention to the notions and theories circulating through the world, his thoughts remaining grounded as he continued walking home with a small bag of groceries in hand. At this point in time, he had not yet taken on the damaged vessel that would later define him, and so this body—his original—stood as something far more unrestrained, quietly overflowing with mana.
Unlike the faint, silver mist that clung to those who had only recently awakened, his mana was dense and heavy, bordering on something almost tangible, as though it pressed against the air itself with quiet insistence.
'It's already this noticeable…'
He continued forward without breaking stride, his gaze briefly sweeping across the streets as he noted the unusually large number of people gathered outside at this hour. Their movements, conversations, and scattered presence filled the night with a subtle, restless energy that contrasted with his own calm pace.
Without hesitation, Adrian turned into the alley he typically used, his steps unchanging as he slipped into the narrower passage between buildings. He was already familiar with the route, familiar enough to know what awaited within its shadows, and so he did not react with surprise or caution.
It was expected.
Routine, even.
Adrian reached the end of the alley, his footsteps slowing only slightly as two figures came into view, standing beneath the dim spill of light that barely reached past the edges of the buildings. Their presence was not unfamiliar to him in the sense that it provoked fear—if anything, it registered as a simple obstacle, something that could be addressed without urgency. Even before mana had ever been part of his life, Adrian had trained his body to remain in peak condition, and that foundation alone gave him the confidence to handle most confrontations that might arise.
One of the men stepped forward, his voice cutting through the quiet with a blunt command.
"Hey. Boy—stop right there."
Adrian came to a stop, his posture relaxed rather than defensive, his attention settling on them with a calm, assessing gaze. In this original body, his appearance differed slightly from the one others would later come to fear; his frame remained sharp and well-maintained, a product of consistent discipline rather than transformation. His crimson eyes carried that same unsettling clarity, the faint white visible beneath the iris giving them an intensity that lingered even in stillness, while his hair fell in an unbroken shade of black, framing his face without distraction.
He turned toward the speaker with that same indifferent composure, as if the interruption itself carried no real weight.
"What do you want?"
One of the men shifted his stance slightly, the second stepping forward as his tone grew more direct, the intent behind his words made plain without hesitation.
"Oh, we want your phone, your money, your wallet—everything you've got on you. And while you're at it, take off your clothes too."
The demand lingered in the narrow space between them, heavy with implication rather than urgency, as both men remained positioned to block the alley's exit. Adrian looked at them for a brief moment, his expression unchanged at first, then faintly puzzled as the meaning settled.
'So this is a robbery…'
He tilted his head slightly, the confusion still present in his eyes as he spoke in a calm, almost detached tone.
"Oh… so you're robbing me."
The first man's lips curled into a small, confident smirk.
"Yes."
For a brief moment, both men let their mana surface, a subtle pressure rolling off their bodies as they attempted to assert dominance. It was not overwhelming, but it was deliberate—an attempt to make their intent clear without yet committing to full force.
Adrian's gaze shifted, taking in the situation with quiet precision. They carried no visible weapons. Their posture, their spacing, the way they stood—everything pointed toward confrontation rather than negotiation.
He exhaled once and gently lowered the grocery bag to the ground, the soft thud of packaged items settling against the pavement echoing faintly in the alley.
The moment his hands left the bag, both men reacted. They stepped back instinctively, widening their stance as the first man raised his hand, mana gathering at his fingertips in a crude but focused construct.
A split second later, he unleashed it—a probing, intrusive technique aimed directly at Adrian's mind.
The sensation struck without warning.
It wasn't something Adrian recognized, but it carried weight, an invisible force pressing inward as if attempting to seize hold of something unseen.
And yet… Adrian did not move.
His body remained upright, still, and entirely unresponsive to the intrusion, as though nothing had occurred at all.
The man continued his attempt to probe deeper, pressing his will forward as though searching for something tangible within Adrian's mind that he could seize and bend to his control. Yet what he encountered was not the kind of psyche he had been trained to expect.
There were no layered emotions to latch onto, no memories glowing with attachment, no anchors formed from fear, love, or hesitation. Instead, it resembled a vast, hollow expanse—an endless field of darkness with a single point of light suspended at its center, faint yet undeniable, where the intruder now stood within the space he had forcibly entered.
Around him, the darkness stretched infinitely in every direction, unmoving, unyielding, as though it did not acknowledge his presence at all.
'There's… nothing here…'
And then, within that void, something shifted.
Deep within the surrounding shadows, a pair of red eyes opened—not directed at the man in the way one would expect, but simply existing, observing from a place that could not be clearly defined as within or without. The presence behind them did not resemble a person, nor anything that could comfortably be called human.
A hand emerged from the darkness.
It appeared humanoid at first glance, yet the proportions were wrong, the edges sharper, the fingers extending into elongated, claw-like forms that scraped against the boundaries of that mental space as it reached toward the light where the intruder stood. Slowly, deliberately, it began to intrude, as though testing the limits of that fragile point of entry.
The moment contact was made, the structure of the man's probing began to fracture.
What he had tried to grasp unraveled instantly, not resisted, not defended against—but simply erased, as though his intrusion had been acknowledged and dismissed by something far beyond his understanding. The mental construct he had formed collapsed inward, losing coherence as the presence within Adrian's mind asserted itself without force, without struggle.
Before his awareness could fully process what was happening, his psyche shattered under the weight of that realization.
The last thing he managed to utter was a single phrase, spoken in a tone that carried both disbelief and terror.
"The Innate Demon…"
At that moment, Adrian's consciousness returned abruptly, reasserting control over his body as though nothing had occurred in the intervening instant.
Yet the man did not stop speaking. His voice became broken, repetitive, caught in a loop as whatever remained of his composure slipped away.
"Innate demon… Innate demon… Innate demon…"
Although the man had not witnessed the full extent of what lay within that mental space, even the brief glimpse of that single reaching limb had been enough to fracture his psyche beyond repair. Fear overtook him completely, tears welling in his eyes as his expression twisted into something that no longer resembled composure or intent, but raw, unfiltered terror that seemed to strip him of coherence itself.
With a trembling hand, he pointed toward Adrian, his voice breaking as he tried to give form to what he had perceived, yet failing to fully articulate it.
"A monster… no—… the Innate Demon…"
The words came out strained, as though forced through a mind that could no longer properly process what it had encountered, and as soon as they left his lips, whatever remained of his psychic stability collapsed entirely, his consciousness ceasing to function in any meaningful way. What he had glimpsed existed beyond the boundaries of understanding, something that could not be categorized, rationalized, or contained within ordinary perception.
Adrian stood there for a moment, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the man as the phrase echoed faintly in his thoughts.
'Innate demon…?'
The term lingered, unfamiliar in its implication, as he tried to place meaning behind it, his mind turning inward briefly.
'Is he talking about me…?'
Before he could dwell further on it, the second man's demeanor shifted. The confidence that had been present earlier gave way to unease as he glanced between Adrian and his incapacitated companion, the situation clearly no longer aligning with what he had anticipated.
Without attempting to press the confrontation any further, he began to back away, quickly moving to support his friend as he prepared to withdraw from the alley, choosing instead to retreat rather than risk remaining in proximity to whatever had just transpired.
As Adrian watched the remaining man drag his companion away, he did not pursue nor call after them, his attention already drifting back to the quiet routine that had been interrupted. He retrieved his groceries from the ground, the weight of the bag settling comfortably in his hand once more, and resumed his walk without urgency or concern.
The rest of the journey passed without incident, the earlier encounter fading into the background as he made his way through the familiar streets and eventually returned home. His residence stood apart from the surrounding homes, not in isolation of poverty, but in scale and presence—large, well-kept, and unmistakably belonging to a family that had once been whole.
A year prior, in 2023, that sense of completeness had been disrupted. His mother had passed away due to a disease, her death neither sudden in the conventional sense nor expected in a way that could soften its impact. It left a quiet absence that lingered within the walls of the house, a presence that could still be felt in the spaces she once occupied.
Since the beginning of 2024, Adrian had lived there alone.
The rooms remained maintained, the structure intact, but the silence within had taken on a permanent quality—one that accompanied him as he moved through the halls, returned from errands, and continued forward with the quiet routine that now defined his daily life.
Adrian stepped into the kitchen and set the groceries down on the counter with quiet efficiency, organizing each item without pause or interruption. The movements were practiced and unhurried, each placement deliberate as he sorted through what needed to be stored, the routine of it offering a brief sense of normalcy against the events of the night.
Once everything was put away, he left the kitchen and made his way toward the staircase, ascending at a steady pace. The house remained silent around him, its spacious interior echoing faintly with each step as he climbed toward the upper floor.
As he reached the landing, his gaze shifted toward a framed photograph resting along the wall. He slowed slightly, his eyes settling on the image of his mother, and for a brief moment his thoughts lingered.
'Her eyes…'
It was unmistakable. The same crimson hue, marked by that visible contrast of lighter tones beneath the iris—an inherited trait that connected him to her more than anything else. Her hair, however, differed entirely, a deep-seated brown that softened her overall appearance in contrast to his own darker features.
His father, on the other hand, had contributed in subtler ways. There was a faint resemblance in Adrian's facial structure, certain lines and contours that aligned with what he had inherited, while the black hair he carried seemed to be the defining trait passed down from that side of the family.
Unbeknownst to him, however, his current form was not something that would remain permanent. In the near future, he would transition into a different vessel—one marked by the contrast of black hair at the top fading into grey at the ends, a change that would come to define the version of himself others would eventually recognize.
Adrian continued up the stairs and entered his room, closing the door behind him before moving to sit on the edge of his bed. The quiet of the space settled around him as he leaned back slightly, his thoughts turning inward once more.
The phrase from earlier resurfaced without warning.
'Innate demon…'
He lingered on the words, attempting to place meaning behind them, though no clear classification came to mind.
'Where does that even fit…?'
The memory of the man's reaction remained vivid, though the context behind it was still unclear to him. After a moment of reflection, the thought gradually shifted, losing its weight as something else took its place.
With a subtle exhale, Adrian leaned forward slightly, his focus changing direction as he considered something far more practical.
'Could be a good gamer name…'
Since the start of 2024, he and his friends had begun playing a co-op military game known as Shadow Regiment, a six-player online experience that they had committed to together. It had become a regular part of their routine, a shared space where they could coordinate, compete, and unwind.
As the idea settled in his mind, Adrian's attention drifted toward the possibility of adopting a new identity within that space—one that reflected the name he had heard, whether he fully understood it or not.
Adrian allowed a faint smile to form as he rose from his bed, the earlier thoughts settling into something quieter and more contained. He crossed the room and lowered himself into his gaming chair near the desk, the familiar creak of the seat accompanying his weight as he reached forward and powered on his computer.
The machine hummed to life, the soft mechanical sounds of fans spinning up and components initializing filling the room with a steady, comforting rhythm. The glow of the monitor followed shortly after, illuminating the space with a pale light that reflected off the surfaces of the desk.
On the screen, an unexpected image appeared as the screensaver cycled into view.
It showed him as a child, sitting beside his mother, both of them engaged in a simple moment that carried far more warmth than anything the present day seemed to offer. His younger self looked genuinely happy, a contrast so sharp that it briefly softened the atmosphere of the room, reminding him of a time before solitude became his constant companion.
For a moment, he simply looked at it.
Then, without dwelling, Adrian moved the mouse and brought the screen to life, navigating through the interface as the system loaded the game. He selected the appropriate settings once the game had fully opened, his actions efficient and familiar, before proceeding to the profile section.
There, he adjusted his name.
Innate Demon.
With the change confirmed, he leaned back slightly and reached for his headset, lifting it onto his head and adjusting the microphone into place. The quiet click of the headset settling signaled the transition from idle routine to online presence as he prepared to connect with his friends.
Moments later, he went online.