Aryan sat at the edge of his bed, the dim glow of his bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. His fingers traced the strange metallic plates he had picked up from the vanished attackers. The symbols carved into their surface pulsed faintly, a rhythm that almost felt... alive. He glanced at his arm, where a similar mark burned into his flesh days ago. A strange heat radiated from it now, tingling under his skin.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his skull. Aryan clutched his head as his vision blurred, his room dissolving into darkness. A cold wind howled around him. He wasn’t in his room anymore.

Instead, he stood in a ruined battlefield. Towering flames engulfed broken structures, and corpses littered the ground. In the distance, a figure identical to him fought desperately against an unseen force. Aryan watched as his doppelgänger’s body twisted unnaturally before vanishing into a void of black mist.

A voice, deep and reverberating, whispered in his mind. "You are not ready. But you must fight."

Aryan gasped as he snapped back to reality, his heart hammering. The room was spinning, his breaths ragged. Then, his mark flared, sending a pulse through his body.

The metal plates in his hands vibrated violently. The symbols on them shifted, rearranging themselves into a new form. Before he could react, the door to his room creaked.

Someone was here.

The Intruder

Aryan barely had time to react before his instincts screamed at him to move. He rolled off his bed just as a blade slashed through the air where his neck had been a second ago. He hit the floor hard, pain jolting up his arm.

A figure stood in the darkness, partially illuminated by the pale light from his lamp. Unlike the attackers from before, this one wore a different mask, an intricate design etched into its metal surface. The figure was taller than Aryan, dressed in a sleek, dark combat suit.

"You're waking up," the intruder said, their voice distorted through the mask. "That means you're running out of time."

Aryan's muscles tensed. "Who the hell are you? What do you want?"

The masked figure didn't respond. Instead, they lunged.

Aryan barely dodged the second attack, the blade slicing through the air beside his ear. He scrambled backward, knocking over a chair in the process. His mind raced. He had no weapon. No plan. And the intruder was too fast.

But then, something clicked inside him.

The mark on his arm flared brightly, and suddenly, time slowed.

Awakening the Gift

A strange clarity washed over Aryan. His vision sharpened, his hearing amplified. The movement of his enemy became predictable—as if he could sense their next step before they even made it.

The intruder lunged again, but this time, Aryan reacted instinctively. He sidestepped at the last second, twisting his body in perfect synchronization with his attacker’s movements.

It was not just speed or reflexes. It was something deeper.

It was Anticipation.

Aryan could feel the intent behind every strike, almost like reading an invisible script written a fraction of a second before it happened.

"Interesting," the masked intruder murmured, stepping back. "Your ability has started to manifest."

Aryan’s breathing was ragged. "What the hell did you do to me?"

The figure tilted their head. "Not me. You were always meant to awaken."

Before Aryan could ask anything else, the attacker charged again, forcing him into another exchange of blows. This time, he was more prepared.

The Fight Begins

Aryan dodged a downward slash, ducking under the blade before countering with a wild punch. His fist connected with the intruder’s chest, sending them stumbling back slightly. For the first time, he landed a hit.

The attacker recovered instantly, rolling with the force of the impact. "Good. But not good enough."

They vanished from sight.

Aryan’s mind screamed a warning—left!

He turned just in time to block a strike aimed at his ribs. His instincts guided him, his body moving on its own. Every motion was fluid, efficient, calculated.

It’s like I already know what’s coming...

But the masked figure wasn’t done.

"Let’s test your limits."

The room blurred as the attacker accelerated, their movements becoming a flurry of deadly precision. Aryan fought to keep up, dodging and countering where he could. Furniture shattered around them as the battle intensified.

His heart pounded. His muscles screamed.

Yet, even as exhaustion crept in, Aryan couldn’t ignore the thrill building inside him.

He was learning. Adapting. Growing stronger.

The Breaking Point

The intruder suddenly stopped, stepping back into the shadows. "That’s enough for now."

Aryan, breathing heavily, didn’t lower his guard. "What’s your game? Who are you?"

The figure hesitated before answering. "A warning. You are not the only one being hunted."

Aryan clenched his fists. "By who?"

The masked individual turned towards the window. "You’ll find out soon enough. But know this—" their voice lowered, "—the versions of you that failed? They were erased. And if you don’t get stronger, you will be next."

Aryan's mind reeled. "Wait—"

Before he could demand more answers, the figure stepped into the shadows and disappeared, as if they had never been there.

For a long moment, Aryan stood in the wreckage of his room, his heart still hammering in his chest.

Then, he looked down at his arm.

The mark was no longer just burning—it was spreading.

And he knew, without a doubt, that his real fight had just begun.