The Demon's Chosen.

The foul stench from the piles of black plastic bags, soaked by the night's rain, seemed to seep deep into Rian's pores. As a janitor at the grand Sterling Tech building in Shoreditch, London, the worst part of the job wasn't cleaning the toilets after a board meeting. It was hauling the remains of that filth into the dark alley behind the building when the clock hit eleven. London was being unkind, the thin drizzle felt like ice needles piercing the fabric of his thin jacket, which was already starting to fray at the elbows.

Rian let out a long sigh, white mist curling from his mouth. He dragged the two massive trash bags with whatever strength he had left. Only one thought occupied his mind: getting back to his cramped apartment, making a bowl of instant noodles, and sleeping. He never expected much from life. To him, being "invisible" amidst the hustle and bustle of this cosmopolitan city was the safest comfort zone. However, tonight, the silence of Shoreditch was shattered by something that didn't belong there.

Click.

The sound was small, nearly muffled by the patter of rain, but for Rian, who was used to staying alert in harsh environments, it sounded like an explosion in his ears. It was the sound of a hammer being pulled back on a gun.

"Don't move a single inch, or I'll burn a hole through your head with this light!"

The voice was raspy, heavy, and thick with agony. Rian froze. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it thumping in his fingertips. He slowly raised both hands, letting the trash bags he was holding hit the asphalt with a wet thud.

Rian turned slowly toward the shadows behind a stack of wooden pallets. There, a man leaned weakly against the wall. His face was deathly pale, but his eyes burned with a terrifying intensity. He wore a gray suit that was now tattered, and most horrifying of all was the dark red stain soaking through his white shirt, blood. A lot of blood.

But it wasn't the blood that caught Rian's breath. It was the object the man was pointing at him. It wasn't a Glock or a revolver like the ones the local street thugs carried. It was sleek and metallic with glowing blue accents, and its muzzle had no bullet hole. Instead, there was a small crystal inside that began to vibrate, emitting an increasingly bright bluish-white light.

"I... I'm just taking out the trash, man," Rian stammered instinctively in Indonesian, before quickly correcting himself into stiff English. "I don't have any money. I'm just a janitor. Please don't shoot."

The man coughed, spitting blood onto the asphalt. "Quiet, Human. I don't care who you are. If you run, this rifle will vaporize your brain molecules before you can even scream."

Rian swallowed hard. Vaporize molecules? Was this guy insane, or had he just escaped from a sci-fi movie set? But the heat radiating from the weapon's muzzle felt incredibly real. The skin on Rian's forehead began to sting just from being in the radius of that light.

Suddenly, a low humming sound descended from the sky. Rian looked up and saw the impossible. Three small, disc-shaped objects, the size of dinner plates, hovered silently between the gaps of the buildings. They had no propellers. They simply glided smoothly, emitting red laser beams that swept across the brick walls of the alley as if they were searching for something.

"Damn it," the wounded man cursed. He tried to stand but fell back down, his weapon trembling in his hand. "The cleaning units are here. They won't leave any witnesses."

"What are those? Police drones?" Rian asked with a trembling voice.

"Not the police you know," the man whispered. He looked at Rian, his eyes once full of threats now turning to desperation. "Listen, they won't see you if you stay still in the shadows, but they'll find me. And if they find me, they'll level this entire alley."

Rian saw the red lasers creeping closer to their position. Something inside him rebelled. Logic told him to run, to hide behind a large dumpster, and let this stranger face his own fate. But seeing the man, the one he would later know as Marcus in his cover identity, wincing in pain while clutching his mangled stomach, Rian couldn't move. There was a strange urge, a protective instinct that came out of nowhere.

"Follow me," Rian whispered suddenly.

The man stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Behind that stack of pallets, there's a steel door leading to the trash compressor room. It's shielded by thick concrete walls. Those drones won't be able to scan your heat signature in there," Rian said quickly. Without waiting for approval, he approached. He ignored the strange weapon pointed at him and threw the stranger's arm over his shoulder.

The man was incredibly heavy, as if his bones were made of solid metal rather than ordinary calcium. They staggered through the darkness. Above them, one of the drones stopped directly over the pile of trash bags Rian had dropped earlier. Its red beam swept over the garbage with cold, digital precision.

Rian held his breath, pressing his body and the man's against the cold, damp brick wall. They slipped into the small gap of the compressor room just as the red beam passed over the heel of Rian's shoe. Inside the cramped room that smelled of oil and scrap metal, they collapsed to the floor.

The man, Marcus, was gasping for air. His light weapon slowly dimmed and, to Rian's wide-eyed shock, the weapon began to melt like hot wax before eventually evaporating into fine grains of light that vanished into the man's palm.

"What... what just happened? Your gun... it's gone?" Rian asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Marcus didn't answer. He took short, sharp breaths. "Your name... what's your name, kid?"

"Rian. Just Rian."

"Rian," Marcus repeated the name with a strange tone, as if he were recording it into a permanent memory. "You have a foolish kind of courage. You saved something you shouldn't have touched."

From outside, the sound of approaching London police sirens could be heard. Blue and red lights began to bounce off the alley walls. The Metropolitan Police must have received a report of a disturbance or seen the flash of the weapon earlier.

"The police are here. You'll be safe now, they can take you to the hospital," Rian said with premature relief.

"No!" Marcus gripped Rian's collar with incredible strength. His face was now only inches from Rian's. "A hospital can't help me. And they... they will come looking for you if they know you were with me."

Marcus reached into a hidden inner pocket. His hands shook violently as he pulled out a small, oval-shaped object, like a contact lens but pitch black with specks of silver light inside. The object pulsed, as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

"This world... it's not what you've seen all this time, Rian," Marcus whispered. His voice was growing weaker, his life force seemingly draining away. "There is a war happening behind the layers of your reality. Sterling Tech... they aren't just a technology company."

"What do you mean? I'm just a janitor there! I don't know anything!" Rian exclaimed in a panic.

Marcus pulled Rian's head closer. "Now you will know. This is both a curse and a gift. I have no other choice. The cleaning units will return, and the only way for you to survive is to see them before they see you."

"Wait, what are you going—"

Before Rian could finish his sentence, Marcus pressed the small, glowing object directly against Rian's right eye.

Rian screamed, but the sound seemed to catch in his throat. It felt like a searing needle driving straight into his brain's neural pathways. The vision in his right eye suddenly shattered into thousands of fragments of digital code, static lines, and coordinates spinning at the speed of light. The pain was so excruciating that his world seemed to turn upside down. He could feel something cold begin to creep from his eye socket, crawling through his neural tissue and merging with his DNA.

"Ugh... my eye! What did you do?!" Rian collapsed, clutching his face, which felt like it was on fire.

Marcus slumped over, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at Rian with a gaze that was both sorrowful and full of hope. "This device... the Aura-Link... it will let you see the world for what it truly is, Rian. You will see statistics, emotions, lies, and unseen threats... but promise me you won't..."

Marcus's voice faded into an inaudible whisper. His head lolled to the side. At that same moment, the iron door of the compressor room was pounded from the outside.

"Metropolitan Police! Open the door!" a voice shouted from behind the door, followed by the heavy thud of boots on the asphalt.

Rian tried to stand, but his head was spinning violently. When he opened his right eye, his world was no longer the same.

He saw the iron door, but floating above it was digital text:

[Carbon Steel Door - Integrity 45% - Weakness: Left Hinge. He looked at Marcus's body, and above the man, a flashing red label appeared: Status: Biometrics Ceased - Consciousness Disconnected]

Rian backed away in terror, his breath hitching. He stared at his own palm and could see his blood flow as a thermal diagram glowing green.

"What is this..." he whispered in horror.

The iron door was forced open. The blinding light of police flashlights burst in. Rian squinted, but his right eye performed an automatic adjustment, filtering the excess light until he could see the faces of the two officers clearly, he could even see their hearts beating rapidly behind their uniforms.

[Target Detected: Police Officer. Threat Level: Low. Mental Status: Tense]

The text floated right in front of the officer's face. Rian trembled violently. He looked at Marcus's lifeless body one last time, remembering the man's final, unfinished words.

Promise me you won't what?

One thing was certain, Rian's life as an invisible office boy had ended in this dark alley. Something far larger, darker, and more dangerous had just awakened inside his head, and he didn't know whether he should be grateful or start running for the rest of his life.