Kurova City never slept, but Kairo Vex did—anywhere he could. Tonight, it was a bus stop bench, his hoodie pulled over his face as neon signs buzzed above. At nineteen, he was a legend nobody wanted: the Voidbreaker, a guy who ended Shade attacks with one lazy punch. Shades—monsters born from void rifts—were Kurova’s plague, and Kairo’s aura was their kryptonite. One hit, gone. No training, no effort. Just vibes.

A scream snapped him awake. Down the street, a Shade—spider-like, with eyes like oil slicks—chased a salaryman. Kairo sighed, scratching his messy black hair. “Can’t a guy get five minutes?” He strolled over, hands in pockets, as the Shade lunged. Kairo flicked his wrist, his aura flaring gold. The Shade burst into ash, not even a fight. The salaryman stammered thanks and ran.

Kairo was halfway to a ramen stand when a woman stepped from the shadows. Mid-twenties, leather jacket, cigarette glowing. Her left arm bore a tattoo—runes that writhed like snakes. “You’re him,” she said, exhaling smoke. “Voidbreaker.”

“Call me Kairo,” he said, eyeing the ramen menu. “Want something?”

“Zyn,” she replied, ignoring the offer. “Exorcist. That Shade wasn’t random—it’s part of a surge. Smarter ones are coming. You in?”

Kairo slurped imaginary noodles, pretending to think. “Pass. Punching’s my limit. Strategy’s your thing.”

Zyn’s eyes narrowed. “People die if you don’t. Rifts are spreading.”

He groaned. She wasn’t wrong—Shades were hitting harder lately, and his naps were getting shorter. “Fine. One job. Then I’m out.”

Zyn led him to an alley where a rift pulsed, leaking black mist. A girl his age—Mara, she introduced—sat cross-legged, her goggles reflecting a holographic interface. “Fear spikes detected,” Mara said, fingers dancing. “This rift’s feeding on panic. I can hack it, but I need cover.”

“Cover’s my middle name,” Kairo lied, leaning against a wall. Zyn snorted, her tattoo glowing as she summoned chains of light. The rift spat a Shade—humanoid, with claws like shattered glass. Kairo yawned, punched, and it vanished. “See? Easy.”

Mara’s hack faltered. “Not easy. It’s learning—adapting.”

Before Kairo could shrug, the rift flared, spitting a dozen Shades. Zyn’s chains lashed out, Mara redirected fear into a stunning pulse, but the Shades kept coming. Kairo sighed, cracking his knuckles. One punch per Shade, and the alley was clear in seconds. “Told you,” he said, but his aura flickered, a rare glitch. He hid it, uneasy.

Zyn grabbed his arm. “You’re not a one-trick pony. Join us, or Kurova’s toast.”

Kairo wanted to bolt, but Mara’s hopeful grin and Zyn’s glare pinned him. “One day,” he said. “Then ramen.”

Chapter 1: One Hit, No Hassle

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