Something Unregistered

The night sky over Noxvale was never truly dark. There was always a faint glow—streetlamps buzzing in the fog, digital billboards burning on towers, and a crimson haze that had long forgotten the meaning of stars.

But tonight... felt different.

At the old docks of Ward 03, the sea breeze reeked of salt and rust. Mist slipped between derelict cranes and hollow shipping containers, blanketing the port like a funeral shroud. The chill in the air clung to the skin like damp cloth, seeping into the bones, and even the gulls had gone silent—as if the whole ward was holding its breath.

Footsteps echoed. Measured. Cautious. Weaving through chains and crates. Every impact sent ripples through shallow puddles, the surface trembling under faint lamplight. Somewhere nearby, an old radio crackled faintly through a broken speaker, playing nothing but static and whispers.

"Location confirmed. One body. Status unverified."

The voice in Rael's earpiece was calm. Flat. Unshaken, as if death had long since lost its novelty.

He stood near a pile of splintered wood, eyes fixed on something just beyond the yellow police tape, which fluttered weakly in the breeze like a warning too tired to scream.

A body.

Or something that used to be a body.

Lying face-up. Skin melted like wax. Blackened in places. Eyes wide open—yet hollow. They stared at nothing and everything, frozen in a final expression that didn’t resemble fear or peace. Just... emptiness.

No blood. No visible wounds. But no signs of life either. The air around it carried a warmth that shouldn’t exist, like the remnants of a fire that never burned.

Rael crouched beside it. He didn't touch the corpse. He only listened.

There was a pulse. Faint. But not from the body. From underneath it. Like a heartbeat muffled by layers of water and ash.

"Male. Early thirties. No ID. No registered Gift," Rael murmured—half to his comms, half to himself.

He closed his eyes.

Sense—his Gift—activated.

And the world changed.

Sounds vanished. Air thickened. Time itself seemed to slow, as though refusing to witness what came next. The ground beneath the body... trembled.

Rael opened his eyes.

A blurred shape. Unformed. Like a creature still under construction.

Something not from this world.

A remnant of summoning. Residual Gift energy. But not from the victim.

"So he was just... the door."

Rael stood.

"Not the killer. Not even the victim. Just... residue."

His eyes drifted toward the dark corridor leading deeper into the ship graveyard. A single red light from an old surveillance camera blinked once.

Then—movement.

Not human. Not machine. More like... the air itself screaming.

Rael said nothing. He moved. Feet slammed the ground. His body spun to the side.

The attack missed.

Dust scattered. The corpse lifted slightly, then slumped back like wet sand.

Rael landed softly, fingers already at the trigger on his wrist. But—

Nothing. Just air. And the bitter scent of iron.

"You summoned something you couldn't bind, huh?"

He spoke into the darkness.

No reply.

But in his mind, a word began to take shape. A concept that defied logic.

Tier-0.

Rael didn’t smile. But his heartbeat changed—just slightly.

He pressed his earpiece. His voice remained flat, but his eyes sharpened like a predator catching the scent of prey.

"Requesting escalation. Black Code. This wasn’t an accident. Target unseen. Possible Tier classification... unconfirmed."

Silence. Then static. Then—

"Approved. Black Case Protocol engaged."

Rael stared one last time into the shadows.

Something was still out there. Watching.

And tonight, Noxvale wouldn’t sleep.