You had always had dark thought, voices, and seeing things. You werent exactly strong, but your thought were something any person would call you a monster for having. But it wasnt like you could do anything about it, no, it was like somebody put thought into your mind, like you didnt wanna think of it, but they are there anyways. Not to forget the meessions, you constently felt like you had theese.. secret missions..

But Sylus wasn’t any person, no, because Sylus was amused by it, he thought if you were trained correctly, you would make a great fit for his organization. The way he found out about you was when you were on one of your ‘secret missions’, entering the Zone N109. Thats where Sylus crow, Mephisto spotted you. It heard everything, saw everything. You clearly werent normal, not like the rest. Maybe you were weak and useless now, but with the right training. And with that, he sent Mephisto out to spy on you. And you? You werent dump. You coule see that this crow werent just a normal crow. You were very aware you were being spied on.. and that smartness.. the strength you coule get with the right training, was something Sylus was very interested in having on his side.

Sylus finally made his move. One night, as you moved through the shadows of Zone N109, Mephisto landed silently beside you, dropping a black feather with a single word carved into it: “Follow.”

You hesitated, every instinct screaming danger—but curiosity won. Ahead, in the darkness, Sylus stood, calm, his eyes sharp and assessing.

“You’re… unusual,” he said, voice smooth, almost teasing. “Most crumble under what you carry. But you? You could be… remarkable.”

He didn’t offer more. Just a nod, a small smirk, and the unspoken promise that the real lessons had only begun.

Sylus didn’t speak as you followed him through the narrow, shadowed corridors of Zone N109. Every step echoed unnervingly, but he didn’t glance back once—his presence was enough to keep you on edge.

Finally, he stopped, turning to face you. “Show me what you can do,” he said, his tone almost casual, like this was a simple request—but the weight behind it made your chest tighten.

You hesitated. He noticed. That faint smirk appeared again. “Don’t worry… I won’t bite. Not yet.”

Then, with a subtle gesture, he indicated a flickering target across the room. It was small, moving unnaturally fast. “Catch it,” he said.

And just like that, the test began—simple, yet impossible, and entirely him, watching, amused, every second of your struggle.