I spent the next hour just... playing.
It was childish. I knew it was childish. But I didn't care. I was an eighteen-year-old kid who'd spent his entire life being a Blank, and now I could run at 120 km/h and make gravity my bitch. Sue me for wanting to have some fun.
I started with the basics. Lifting things. Small stuff at first, a trash can lid, a brick, a traffic cone. I'd point at them, focus, and watch them float up into the air like they were made of helium. Then I'd release them and watch them drop.
Then I got creative.
I found an abandoned construction site and spent twenty minutes just... throwing shit around. Cinder blocks, metal pipes, plywood sheets—I was launching them into the air, catching them, spinning them, juggling them. It was like having telekinesis, except weirder. I wasn't pushing objects with my mind. I was telling gravity to fuck off, and the objects just... went wherever they wanted to go after that.
The weirdest part was the "straight line" thing. When I fully negated gravity on an object, it didn't float. It just... moved. In whatever direction it had been going. If I threw a brick upward and negated gravity on it, it would keep going up forever. If I negated gravity on a brick that was sitting still, it would start drifting—slowly, almost imperceptibly—in a random direction, because the earth was rotating underneath it.
Physics was wild.
I tried negating gravity on myself while running. The result was... terrifying. I went from 120 km/h to "holy shit I'm going to die" in about two seconds. Without gravity, my feet couldn't grip the ground, and I just... slid. Like a car on ice. I crashed into a pile of sandbags and spent five minutes coughing up dust.
"Okay. Note to self: don't negate gravity while running."
I tried jumping with partial negation. That was better. By reducing my weight to maybe 10% of normal, I could jump insanely high, around twenty to thirty meters, and then re-apply gravity to come back down. It was like being on a trampoline that went as high as I wanted.
I tried wall-running. By negating gravity on my feet specifically, I could stick to vertical surfaces for a few seconds at a time. It wasn't elegant—I looked like a drunk gecko—but it worked. I made it about halfway up a three-story building before losing my footing and falling into a dumpster.
"..."
I climbed out of the dumpster, smelling like garbage and regret.
"Okay. Note to self number two: dumpsters are not soft."
By the time I was done messing around, the sky was starting to lighten. The rain had stopped completely, and the city was transitioning from that weird pre-dawn gray to actual daylight. I could hear birds starting to chirp, which was annoying.
I looked at the clock on a nearby bank building. 4:47 AM.
"...I should probably go home."
I negated gravity on myself and jumped onto a nearby rooftop. Then another. Then another. I was getting smoother at it now—the jumps, the landings, the transitions between gravity-on and gravity-off. It still wasn't graceful, but it was functional.
I reached our apartment building in about ten minutes. The marble lobby was empty—the doorman was either asleep at his desk or had gone home. I didn't bother with the stairs or the elevator. Instead, I scaled the side of the building, using my gravity negation to stick to the wall, and swung myself onto the fourth-floor ledge outside my window.
My window was still open from when I'd left. I climbed through, landed on my bed with a soft thump, and lay there for a moment, breathing hard.
I looked around my room. Everything was exactly as I'd left it. The broken desk. The scattered books...
Not a soul had noticed I was gone.
Not Steph for sure, who was probably passed out in her room. Not Bethany, who'd been too busy hosting her little party. Not Sylvie, who'd been too drunk to stand. Not Gracie, who probably didn't care if I lived or died.
"..."
I should've been bothered by that. A normal person would've been hurt—their family not even noticing they'd been gone all night. But honestly? I was relieved. The less attention I got, the better. Attention meant questions. Questions meant lies. Lies meant getting caught.
And getting caught was not an option.
[Ding!]
[Parasite (Gen 1) status update.]
[Gen 1-A: Lifespan expired. Parasite has died.]
[Gen 1-B: Lifespan expired. Parasite has died.]
[Gen 1-C: Lifespan expired. Parasite has died.]
I stared at the notification. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
"...Well. That's that."
The Gen 1s were dead. All three of them. They'd drained 15% of John's A-rank gravity negation, and I'd already fed on that power. They did their job well.
I wondered what happens to parasites when they die, I'm pretty sure they don't leave a corpse or anything... Do they just disappear? I don't think so either...
"Meh."
I checked what I had left.
[Current parasite inventory:]
[Gen 2]
[Inherited traits: Enhanced Speed (minor), Gravity Negation (minor)]
[Lifespan: 22:14:27 remaining]
One Gen 2. That was it. The last child of the last child of the original worm. It carried minor traits from both speed and gravity. Meaning it could probably fly to targets on its own, using the gravity negation trait.
Or so I guessed...
I needed to plant it somewhere good. Somewhere with a powerful host. Somewhere I could access regularly without raising suspicion.
I had candidates. Jack, obviously because he was B-rank, and I saw him every day at school. But he was risky. If he noticed something was wrong, if anyone connected the dots...
There were also the heroes I'd seen on the billboards. But they were way above my pay grade. A-ranks, S-ranks—people who could level buildings and probably sense a parasite inside them.
I'm pretty sure that the only reason John didn't feel anything was because he was too drunk to notice. Or so I guessed.
And then there was Revive. The immortal chuunibyou. B-rank regeneration. But I had no idea where to find him, and he ran at normal human speed. I'd have to stumble into him again by chance.
"...I'll figure it out later."
I looked at my broken desk, my scattered books, my generally depressing room. I should change clothes. I should sleep. But I didn't feel tired at all. The Enigma's energy boost was still going strong, and my body felt like it could go another twelve hours without rest.
It was 5 AM. The apartment was quiet. No arguing, no moaning or loud music. Just... silence.
"...TV it is."
I opened my door and crept down the stairs. The living room was dark and empty. Sylvie was gone, someone must've moved her to her bed at some point. Probably Steph, who'd probably stumbled downstairs for water and found her daughter passed out on the couch in her torn clothes.
I grabbed the remote, flopped onto the couch, and turned on the TV.
The screen flickered to life, casting a blue glow across the dark room. I flipped through the channels, most of them were Late-Night Repeats since it was four in the morning.
Channel 4. A repeat of Calder City night news. It had the same blonde anchor from earlier, Tiffany Wells, except now she was wearing a turtleneck that covered everything up to her chin. Probably after the on-air meltdown with her co-host.
Her expression was tight, professional, and clearly furious about something. She was reading from a teleprompter with the energy of someone who wanted to murder every single person in the control room.
"—and in overnight news, a violent incident in the gate district left twenty two men dead. Police are investigating the scene, which they describe as—"
I changed the channel. I did not need to hear about that.
Channel 7. A sort of Hero Channel? A panel of three commentators were discussing the Hero Chart rankings for this month. A fat guy in a suit was arguing that Gravity Queen deserved the number one spot, while a skinny woman with glasses was insisting that Silverangel's community work made her more deserving.
"Gravity Queen stopped a meteor! A METEOR! You can't top that!"
"But Silverangel runs a soup kitchen AND an orphanage! She's literally feeding orphans, Greg!"
"Orphans don't stop meteors, Susan!"
"..." Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
I changed the channel.
Channel 12. A public interview with some Calder Central High's students. Some anchor with a camera was interviewing students about the upcoming power assessment tests. A girl with pink hair was talking about how stressed she was about maintaining her C-rank status.
"If I drop to D-rank, my parents are gonna kill me. Literally kill me. They already bought the Hero Track tuition—"
Boring. Next.
Channel 15. DAA Official Channel. A government spokesman in a gray suit was reading a statement about the Gate Surge. Something about increased gate frequency, the need for more licensed heroes, and a new initiative to fast-track student licenses.
"—the Department of Awakened Affairs remains committed to ensuring public safety during this challenging period. We urge all citizens to report any suspicious activity—"
I tuned it out.
Channel 18. Some late-night talk show. A host with too many teeth was interviewing a retired hero about his memoirs. The hero was old, maybe sixty, and his costume looked like it belonged in a museum.
"...and that's when I said to the villain, 'You can run, but you can't hide from justice!' And the whole crowd just went wild—"
"Tsk."
I kept flipping.
Channel 22 was on adds period promoting... OnlyFans accounts?
"..."
What the fuck? That was a thing?
Apparently, it was. The screen showed a compilation of various creators promoting their content, with text overlays advertising subscription rates and exclusive content. Tiffany Wells' face was on one of the promotional banners, alongside the text "TIFFANY AFTER DARK - EXCLUSIVE CONTENT - $9.99/MONTH."
"John wasn't jocking... She really does have an OF."
I changed the channel before my brain could process any more of that.
Channel 30. Movie channel. Some old superhero movie was playing. A guy in spandex was fighting a giant robot while a woman in an equally skimpy outfit screamed in the background.
"YOU'LL NEVER GET AWAY WITH THIS, DR. DESTRUCTO!"
"MUAHAHAHA! MY ROBOT ARMY WILL CRUSH THIS CITY!"
"..."
I settled on this one. It was dumb, but it was background noise, and I needed something to occupy my brain while I thought about next steps.
I leaned back into the couch, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. The apartment was still dark and quiet. Outside, the sun was starting to rise, casting a thin orange line along the horizon.
The TV played on, the hero on screen delivering dramatic monologues while the villain cackled and the woman screamed.
I stared at the ceiling.
"..."
Tomorrow was Sunday. No school. That gave me a full day to figure out what to do with my last Gen 2 parasite. I needed to be smart about this. I couldn't waste it on some random D-rank I'd never see again. I needed someone powerful, someone I had regular access to, someone whose power loss wouldn't be noticed immediately.
Jack was the obvious choice. But again, he was dangerous.
John was still an option... I could plant the Gen 2 in him the next time he came over. But I'd already drained 15% from him. Another 12% would put him at 27% total loss... well into the Yellow band. He'd notice. His teammates would notice. The DAA would notice.
"...I need to think about this."
I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the movie wash over me.
A hero's work was never done.
But I wasn't a hero. So fuck that.