Miura Akito had 184 days left to live.

If you wanted to be particularly intrusive? 184 days, 16 hours, 52 seconds and counting. He knew this too, all thanks to the sleek device he wore around his wrist.

To imply that he was “living” would be a slap in the face—he wasn’t living at all. If he was, he’d still be in contact with his family, at the very least: a capable, intelligent young man with a thriving social network and a bright future ahead…

Tch, yeah. Right.

Instead, he’d spent the last 392 days of his dwindling time chasing the shadow of a thief across the entire continent. This pain in his neck, who’d somehow managed to steal the Elixir of Immortality from around its creator’s neck.

What was a breaking headline for the rest of the world and quickly forgotten was life-altering for Akito. Why? Because that tiny vial of life essence was the only equilibrium to the blight that was eating away at his body. Stolen, from the very lab it had been manufactured in, right under the noses of the geniuses who’d engineered it.

It was a small mercy that Naohiro hadn’t been harmed, during the least—at least the cure could still be remade. But it’d be months until then, and there just wasn’t enough time.

The breadcrumb trail that’d been provided by a slew of informants had led him to a sleepless city far south from New Aurora: a lesser-known gateway towards the Sky’s Edge.

Tonight, this prolonged game of cat and mouse would finally come to an end.

“You realise I’m not the only one after you, don’t you?” The warning shot whistled past his target’s ear, as Akito remained in hot pursuit.

His long legs were making quick work of eating up the distance between them, his footfall heavy on solid concrete as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, “Even if you pass the Sky’s Edge, you’ll be a fugitive no matter where you go.”