Crow didn't stop until his own body forced him to stop.
His steps, which had been steady, began to lose rhythm as he entered a narrow alley only illuminated by distant streetlight. The concrete walls flanking left and right felt increasingly close, constricting his movement space, while his breath turned into short, irregular gasps. Every time he tried to draw deeper air, pain spread from his chest to his throat, as if his lungs refused to be forced to work further. He kept walking, one by one, forcing his body to move even though every signal he received said the same thing: stop.
But stopping meant being caught.
And being caught meant finished.
That was enough to keep him moving.
Only after the distance he traveled felt far enough, Crow finally crashed his hand against the wall, supporting his almost collapsing body. He stood there for several seconds, head bowed, breath heavy and rough, before slowly lowering his body to the ground. His back leaned against cold, slightly damp concrete, and for the first time since he fled, he truly stopped.
Pain came fully.
No longer the remnants of impact, but constant pressure demanding attention. His shoulder felt stiff, his back as if pulled, and his head throbbed slowly with a disturbing rhythm. He closed his eyes for a moment, not to rest, but to hold back all those sensations so they wouldn't dominate his mind.
He was still alive.
But not in a condition that could last long.
(Status: Critical)
(Life stability: 43%)
(Time remaining: 20:41:12)
Crow opened his eyes again, staring at the numbers that appeared without excessive reaction. He was no longer surprised every time the system appeared. Instead, he began treating it like part of a new reality he couldn't ignore.
"Forty-three percent," he murmured softly, trying to digest the meaning of that number. "That means I've already lost more than half… even before everything's finished."
No clarification.
No explanation.
The system didn't give context, only results.
And that made everything more dangerous.
He slowly raised his hand, observing his fingers that still trembled slightly. The sensation he felt wasn't entirely physical. There was something left from using that ability earlier—a deeper exhaustion, as if not his body that was depleted, but something else inside him.
He tried to call it again.
That shadow.
Rift.
No response.
Only silence.
(Ability "Rift" — Status: Unstable)
(Condition: Cannot be used consistently)
(Risk: Damage increases if forced)
Crow exhaled long.
"So it's not a weapon," he said softly, more to himself, "more like… a gamble."
He rested his head against the wall, staring straight ahead. Everything that had just happened began to reassemble in his mind. That hunter wasn't just a strong enemy. He was trained, efficient, and followed clear rules. That meant the system that sent him also had structure.
And if there was structure—
then there were patterns.
Faint footsteps sounded from the distance.
Crow immediately tensed.
That reflex came faster than his fatigue.
He didn't move, but all his focus immediately fixed on the direction of that sound. The distance was still quite far, but the rhythm wasn't random. Regular. Coordinated.
More than one person.
Crow slowly pressed his body deeper into the narrow shadow in the corner of the alley, regulating his breath so it wouldn't be heard. He held back every small movement, even his heartbeat felt too loud in his own ears.
If they found his trail—
he wouldn't be able to escape again.
Several seconds passed.
Then minutes.
That sound grew closer, then stopped.
Not exactly in front of him.
But enough to make him realize:
They were searching.
(Warning: Search activity detected.)
(Suggestion: Minimize movement and traces.)
Crow closed his eyes briefly.
"Didn't need to be told," he murmured softly.
He waited.
Not moving.
Not making sound.
Some moments later, those footsteps began to fade away.
Slowly.
Branching into different directions.
Crow remained silent.
Not reacting immediately.
He waited until that sound truly disappeared before finally opening his eyes again.
He survived one wave.
But that wasn't the end.
That was just a pause.
His mind returned to one name.
Livia.
Crow rummaged in his pocket, taking out his phone with more careful movement than before. The screen was cracked on one side, but still usable. He opened the messages, found their last conversation, then stopped several seconds before starting to type.
Not because he didn't know what he wanted to say.
But because every word now had consequences.
"Are you safe?"
He stared at that message.
Then sent it.
Time felt longer as he waited for a reply. His mind tried to stay calm, but the worst possibilities still emerged uninvited.
If Livia was caught…
If that hunter wasn't alone…
If she became the next target—
The screen lit up.
A reply came in.
"I'm safe. But they're still around. I heard sounds earlier."
Crow drew a slow breath.
At least one variable hadn't disappeared.
"Don't go back to the apartment."
"Find a crowded place. Don't stay in one place too long."
The reply came faster.
"Crow… this isn't normal. You know something, don't you?"
That question hit harder than it should.
Crow stared at the screen in silence.
He knew.
And precisely because of that—
he couldn't answer honestly.
(Warning: Main target not yet eliminated.)
(Time remaining: 20:32:09)
Crow slowly closed his eyes.
It came back again.
Always returned to the same thing.
He opened his eyes, stared at the screen once more, then turned off his phone without replying.
Not because he ignored that question.
But because he wasn't ready to face his own answer.
He rested his head against the wall, his mind now far more focused. All possibilities began to converge into one simple conclusion he could no longer avoid.
He couldn't keep running.
He couldn't just react.
And he couldn't hope the system would stop.
If he wanted to survive—
he had to start taking control.
Footsteps returned.
This time closer.
Clearer.
Crow opened his eyes, his body still tired, but his mind no longer wavering like before. He slowly stood up, holding back the pain spreading from his leg to his back, then regulated his breath.
He didn't move to escape.
He didn't hide anymore.
Instead—
he waited.
Because for the first time since everything began, he understood one thing he had previously avoided:
If he kept running, he would die weak.
But if he started fighting back—
at least he had a chance to understand what was hunting him.
(Status: Active)
(Analysis: Subject showing behavioral pattern change)
Crow smiled thinly.
"Yes," he said softly, "finally you realize."
He slowly raised his hand.
Not with panic.
Not with doubt.
But with decision.
And this time—
he didn't try to forcefully call that power.
He waited.
Letting it emerge.
The air around him began to change.
Slow.
Almost invisible.
And when that step appeared from the end of the alley—
Crow was ready.