The sun was already high by the time Michael woke up.
His back hurt as if he had slept on a rock—because, in fact, he had. His eyes were sunken, and a stubborn lock of hair pointed straight upward.
"Damn… feels like I got hit by a truck," he muttered, rubbing his neck and stretching.
Jack, lounging against the wall as if he'd slept in a five-star hotel, smirked.
"Told you, kid. 'Never underestimate the power of sleep,' right?" he said, mimicking Michael's voice. "Well, congrats, you survived sleeping on granite."
Michael shot him a glare.
"Shut up, ghost. And by the way… what happened last night, when… you know, I cried—was because I was tired and cold! Not. One. Word."
Jack raised his hands innocently.
"Whatever you say, champ."
Michael stood up, and his stomach growled like a beast.
"Great… now I'm hungry."
Jack snapped his fingers.
"Then today you'll learn life's most important lesson: hunt or starve."
"What?"
"You either use your powers to get food, or you don't eat. Welcome to survival training—broke edition."
Michael sighed.
"You do realize I'm basically a rookie, right?"
"Exactly. That's why it's going to be fun watching you run from your prey."
They stepped out of the cave. The morning air was crisp, though the sunlight was warm. That's when Michael noticed something strange: his body felt lighter—more alive.
He extended his hand, and with little effort, a small sphere of white light appeared on his palm. Then another… and another.
Within seconds, he had formed a sword of pure light, crackling with golden energy.
Jack looked at him, genuinely surprised.
"Well, look at that… seems sunlight turns you into a glow stick on steroids. Makes sense though—I'm stronger at night."
Michael swung the blade, leaving a clean whistle in the air.
"This is amazing. I can make them effortlessly. Wait—maybe I can even fly!"
He concentrated energy behind his back, creating two glowing wings. He jumped, flapped them—and faceplanted into the ground.
"Ow…"
Jack burst out laughing.
"What did you expect? Energy wings don't catch air, genius. But hey, points for effort."
As Michael brushed off the dust, Jack watched him out of the corner of his eye and thought:
> "You're screwed, dove-boy. He uses light, I use shadows—that makes me weak to him. But this kid has the same power as you. And it looks like he's mastering it faster… oh well, ignoring the fact that he's an idiot."
In the distance, among the trees, something moved.
A massive boar with dark fur and curved tusks was digging through the dirt.
Jack pointed.
"There's breakfast. Aim and shoot."
"What do you mean, shoot—?"
"Imagine the energy at your fingertips, like a gun. Don't think—just do it."
Michael lifted his hand, focused, and a burst of light shot through the air.
The boar fell instantly without a sound.
Michael lowered his arm, face solemn.
"Damn… at least it was clean. I didn't want it to suffer."
Jack watched him in silence for a moment before smirking.
"Nice aim, kid. Guess you've got some instincts after all."
Michael conjured a knife of light to cut the meat, but the moment it touched the carcass, the flesh carbonized.
"Oops… too hot."
Jack chuckled.
"You're more of a blowtorch than a chef. Try lowering the intensity—or better yet, use a shadow blade. Come on, I'll show you."
Michael closed his eyes and visualized a dial. He turned the "power level" down, and the blade became steadier, sharper. He sliced another piece—perfectly.
Jack raised a brow, impressed.
"Hmph, whatever… shadows are still cooler."
"You sound like an edgy teenager. Aren't you supposed to be older than me?" Michael teased.
"I don't even know what the hell an 'edgy' is. Where'd you learn to cut like that, anyway?"
Michael smiled faintly.
"My grandpa taught me. He said animals are living beings too, and if we eat them, it should be done with respect."
For a moment, silence was filled with quiet nostalgia.
"Do you eat?" Michael asked after a while.
Jack smirked.
"No stomach, champ—unless I borrow yours. Though Kuro's got a monstrous appetite."
"Perfect. When I'm done, I'll summon him for a feast."
Michael sighed at the pile of meat.
"Well… there's a lot to do. Though honestly, I'm already tired. Help me out?"
Jack leaned back against a rock, arms crossed.
"Sorry, I'm a shadow. You're on your own."
Michael chuckled softly.
"Fine. Then the bunny can help me."
He made the shadow-hand gesture under the sunlight.
"Come on, adorable red-eyed nightmare… I choose you!"
From his shadow emerged a rabbit—but it wasn't Kuro.
It was white, translucent, about two meters tall, with glowing fur and a celestial aura.
"Shi…? Shi, shi, shi," the creature chirped.
Michael blinked.
"Kuro?"
Jack pointed at it, alarmed.
"What the hell did you do to my killer bunny?!"
Michael raised a brow.
"Uh… big guy, what's your name?"
The rabbit smiled, pounced on him shouting "Ro… ro…" and flattened him with a jump.
"Shiro?!" Michael yelled from the ground.
The rabbit hopped happily, glowing with radiant light.
"Shiro! Shiro! Shiro!"
Jack watched with a mix of horror and resignation.
"Great… now we've got a Poké-thing in lamp mode."
Laughing, Michael stood up.
"Shiro, mind helping me with this?"
The rabbit nodded and, to their surprise, absorbed the boar into its body. Inside the glowing form, silhouettes moved, separating flesh from bone with surgical precision.
Seconds later, it expelled perfectly cut portions and stored the rest within its body.
Michael stared, amazed.
"Hey, Jack… can they read our minds? It gave me exactly what I wanted and kept the leftovers."
Jack crossed his arms, glaring at the radiant bunny.
"Servants fulfill their king's desires. Guess that answers your question."
Shiro emitted one last flash and curled up beside Michael, while Jack muttered under his breath:
"…I hate cute things."
---
Eight hours earlier…
Adan flew above the ocean, leaving behind a golden trail that split the sky. His face was calm, though sweat dripped from his brow.
"Maybe I should go back and finish Jack off," he thought—but just imagining it sent a chill down his spine.
He closed his eyes, remembering clearly how their last encounter had ended.
It was the 19th century.
Adan and Jack had been allies—almost brothers—until Jack discovered his "divine experiments": humans twisted by light, turned into biological abominations.
Adan had tried to persuade him to join his cause, but horrified, Jack fought him instead. Though Adan was faster and held the elemental advantage, Jack's pure darkness crushed him mercilessly.
He left him crucified in his own light.
But still… Jack died, and Adan won. Luck, perhaps?
> "I didn't lose… it wasn't luck. I won. I won."
Rage consumed him. He stretched out his hands, forming a massive sphere of light between them, blazing like a second sun.
"Damn you!" he roared, hurling it into the ocean.
The explosion vaporized meters of seawater, sending a cloud of steam into the sky.
Panting, Adan muttered, "Tsk… what a nuisance."
He continued his flight until he descended over Israel. His angelic figure touched down before a group of followers who immediately knelt.
To them, Adan was a living prophet—the messenger of God.
Under his command, the Central Church had reshaped faith, turning Christianity into a religion devoted to him.
"The Bastion of God on Earth"… or so his followers believed.
A young woman with sky-blue hair greeted him with a bow.
"Welcome back, sir."
"Hello, Liz," he said with a gentle smile. "How are things in the church?"
"All under control. But there are matters that require your atten—"
"Handle them yourself," he interrupted, calm yet firm. "I'm… busy."
Liz lowered her gaze, fists clenching.
"As you wish, sir."
Adan began to walk toward the temple, but stopped briefly.
"Oh, Liz. Call Timy and Chris. Tell them to meet me here."
"May I ask why?" she said, forcing a polite smile.
An extra eye opened on Adan's cheek, staring at her with unsettling calm.
"Just do it."
A shiver ran down Liz's spine.
"Y-Yes, sir…" she whispered.
---
Meanwhile, in the United States…
A young man with short black hair and a calm smile sat across from an older man in the Oval Office.
The elderly man—Damian Walter, President of the United States—closed a dossier with a grave look.
"Edward, we've detected activity from a member of Adan Brine's Church—one of our two major threats," he began. "One of their agents was defeated by a boy in a remote mountain. According to our satellites, the kid just awakened his powers."
Edward raised a brow, looking mildly interested.
"Cut to the chase, Mr. Walter. What does she want me to do?"
Walter sighed.
"She said to recruit him. If he resists… eliminate him. And bring us his crystal."
Edward tilted his head, half amused, half skeptical.
"A kid? Don't you think that's a bit cold? And… why me?"
"Simple. Victor's unstable, Rodrigo's lazy, Elena's busy, and your brother—"
"Don't even think about sending my brother to kill kids," Edward interrupted dryly but firmly.
"Just give me the coordinates, transport… and a decent bonus, minimum."
Walter lit a cigarette.
"I'll speak with Mr. Amun."
"Perfect," Edward replied, standing up.
"Don't worry, Mr. President. I'll handle it."
As he walked out, he muttered under his breath with a weary smile:
"Still… this is getting exhausting. But we have to obey our superiors, don't we, Mr. President?"
---
Present time.
The sunlight bathed the mountain warmly.
Michael was feeding Shiro pieces of meat while Jack watched with a skeptical look.
"Hey, kid," Jack said, "why the hell is your hair gray?"
"Huh? I don't know… my grandpa had it too."
"Your grandpa was old, idiot. Doesn't count," Jack shot back, arms crossed.
Michael chuckled.
"Guess so…"
Suddenly, a distant rumble echoed in the sky.
Jack frowned.
"Uh… what the hell is that?"
Michael squinted.
"A helicopter! I've never seen one this close!"
Jack eyed it cautiously.
"And you think it's coming for us?"
A voice sounded behind them:
"Nah, it's here for me."
They both turned.
Behind them stood a man covered in leaves, his suit torn to shreds, hair messy, walking up the path with heavy steps.
He wore a calm smile… though sweat poured down his face.
Michael stared.
"Are you okay? You look like you got mauled by a bear."
The man smiled casually.
"I fell while climbing the mountain."
Jack arched a brow.
"Sure… very convincing, mountain climber."
The man brushed off the leaves and extended his hand.
"Edward Johnson. Nice to meet you, kid, and uh… shadow? What's your name?"
Jack stepped forward.
"Don't tell him—"
"Michael Reed," the boy blurted out. "But you can call me Mike."
Jack narrowed his eyes.
"You idiot! …Reed? Did you just say Reed?"