Edit: 12/10/24: I've been rereading the first few chapters and I wanted to expand on it more. When I first started, I wanted to get the general idea out there instead of trying to get it too verbose and burning myself out before I began. Now that I'm in the swing of things, I want you all to enjoy a deeper experience!
Let me know what you think, and I'll be happy to answer!
Future Terra ace
Rewrite: Chapter 1: The Shadow of Innovation
The world outside Minoru Kageno's small bedroom window was dim, the streets illuminated only by the sickly glow of a few aging streetlights and the distant neon signs that never fully slept. On nights like this, the crumbling asphalt and chipped paint of suburban apartment blocks took on a surreal, muted quality. Occasionally, a car passed with headlights slicing through the dark, or a lone cyclist pedaled by, head down, barely acknowledging the sleeping neighborhood. Inside Minoru's cramped room, a different world crackled to life—a domain of tangled wires, half-assembled circuit boards, and an array of monitors casting a ghostly blue-white luminescence over everything.
The hum of cooling fans served as a steady lullaby, a counterpoint to the distant sirens and muffled chatter drifting in from outside. It smelled faintly of solder and warm plastic. Stacks of printouts covered in Minoru's neat handwriting and cryptic diagrams lay scattered across the desk and floor. In the corner, a bookshelf bowed under the weight of reference manuals, programming guides, and obscure treatises on cryptography and infiltration techniques. While his classmates spent their evenings battling virtual monsters or grinding through cram school sessions, Minoru was here, huddled over his workbench. Tonight, he tinkered with his latest creation: a sleek, palm-sized drone whose chassis was a composite of lightweight polymers and clever 3D-printed components. He had fitted it with night-vision optics, precision rotors for silent flight, and an improvised acoustic dampener that would mask its mechanical whir.
Leaning back, Minoru took in the scene, eyes gleaming with private ambition. In ordinary daylight and in the corridors of his high school, he passed without remark. Black hair always neatly trimmed but unexceptional, an average frame clothed in a regulation uniform, and a posture that radiated quiet acquiescence. Classmates might have recognized his face, but never his name. He orchestrated this anonymity with careful intent, each subtlety calibrated like a piece of code. Why stand out now, when he aimed for something far greater? Deep within him seethed a desire not for the spotlight, but for the hidden control panels that dictated the stage directions of life. He dreamed not of heroism or villainy in the traditional sense, but of becoming what he called the "Eminence in Shadow"—a figure neither celebrated nor condemned by the public, but one who controlled the world's currents from behind the scenes.
"Power isn't just about flashy swords and martial arts," he murmured as he guided his soldering iron with surgeon-like precision. A delicate wire fused into place under his watchful eye, and he allowed himself a small nod of approval. "It's about control, information… tools… and most importantly, shadows." For years, ever since he was a child huddled over contraptions while other kids chased soccer balls, this belief had grown in him like a vine. He had devoured books on hacking, studied engineering blueprints borrowed from online forums, and pored over case studies of legendary whistleblowers and anonymous activists. From infiltration tactics to the subtle art of surveillance, he consumed knowledge as if preparing for a grand, unseen conflict.
His current project—the drone he dubbed Umbra-01—was merely a stepping stone, a test of his growing arsenal of skills. Tonight's mission was a modest one: to infiltrate the school after hours and plant a listening device in the faculty office. A childish prank to some, but to Minoru, it was a carefully measured exercise in stealth and data acquisition. It was training for the day he would infiltrate the offices of corrupt bureaucrats, or break into R labs of multinational corporations, all without ever revealing his face. The thought of those future exploits thrilled him more than any teenage romance or varsity trophy ever could.
At last, the drone was ready for a test flight. He placed Umbra-01 on his desk, its matte-black casing reflecting the dancing lines of code on his monitors. He tapped a command on his keyboard and the drone's rotors engaged with a soft whisper, causing the tiny machine to hover steadily just above the cluttered surface. Minoru's lips curled into a grin. "Another step closer, to be the Eminence," he murmured, voice full of quiet satisfaction.
~!~
The following day, Minoru's outward appearance reverted seamlessly to the persona he had perfected. He walked through the school gates with a slight slump to his shoulders, his gaze grazing the floor tiles more often than the faces of his classmates. In the classroom, he took his usual seat at the back corner, next to the window but never attracting the eye. He wrote in his notebook, though mostly nonsense—a list of encryption keys hidden between doodles, random data sets camouflaged as math notes. His classmates saw only a quiet, unremarkable boy, as easily ignored as a piece of old furniture.
Only one person seemed to look at him more than casually: Akane Nishita… or was that her name? Minoru had noted her once, a girl with an unusually sharp gaze and a perceptible curiosity that seemed out of place in this world of bland routine. She occasionally glanced his way, eyes narrowing as if to peel back his layers. Minoru always feigned ignorance, blending further into mediocrity. As he lowered his head to feign listlessness, he caught the tail end of a cold stare from her direction. He let it roll off him like water off a slick surface, ignoring it and maintaining his meek facade. Let her think what she liked—he'd remain a ghost in these halls, a footnote in school gossip, until he chose otherwise.
During the lunch break, the cacophony of voices and clattering trays faded as Minoru retreated to the most secluded corner of the library—a musty alcove lined with dusty encyclopedias no one ever read. Here, silence reigned. It was a sanctuary where he could feed his mind with data. Before his eyes danced the remnants of a news report he'd skimmed over breakfast: a series of sophisticated break-ins at local tech firms. Advanced AI prototypes, still in their testing phases, had vanished without a trace. The police, befuddled and outclassed, offered only generic statements. The city buzzed with rumors, and speculation ran wild.
"Amateurs," Minoru scoffed silently, resting his chin on his knuckles. If he'd designed those security systems, the thieves would have never gained entry. And if he had been the thief? They'd have found nothing but confusion and unanswered questions. To him, it was child's play. The seeds of an idea took root in his mind, branching out into a vision of manipulation. What if he could orchestrate such incidents himself—carefully controlling both the crime and the narrative around it? He could build a legend, a whispered name in the underbelly of the city's tech world. He could tweak security holes, leak false leads, pit corporations against each other, all from behind a veil of perfect anonymity.
"Information is power," he reminded himself softly. He pulled out a sleek, lightweight tablet and began sketching plans for a new infiltration program. His stylus danced across the screen, drafting algorithms for a worm that would slip undetected into local security networks. It would nest quietly, harvesting knowledge, relaying vulnerability points back to him. No alarms, no logs left behind—like a shadow passing through darkness.
~!~
That night, while the city's residents surrendered to sleep, Minoru remained awake and alert, framed by the soft glow of his multi-monitor rig. Four screens displayed various feeds: one scrolled lines of code, another showed server logs, another was a map of networked security devices around the city, and the last projected a live camera view of his desk. The quiet hum of electronics replaced any lullaby, and the faint reflection of code in his eyes made them look almost luminous.
"This is it," he said under his breath, cracking his knuckles. He felt a sense of ceremony in the moment. With a keystroke, he unleashed the worm, setting it into the digital veins of the city's systems. Small at first, merely testing the waters, it would grow bolder with each success. Meanwhile, the test run for Umbra-01's true capabilities was about to begin.
He guided the drone out of his window and into the night sky. It was almost invisible against the darkness, its infrared sensors and noise-canceling rotors turning it into a phantom. He fed it coordinates to a small tech startup rumored to be developing cutting-edge encryption algorithms. The target building's exterior cameras swept lazily, seeing nothing. Its motion detectors waited for obvious intruders, but none came. Instead, Umbra-01 glided to a rooftop vent, twisting open the cover and slipping inside with a whisper of metal.
As Minoru watched the live feed from the drone's camera, the thrill of control coursed through his veins. Each meter Umbra-01 advanced was a demonstration of his skill and daring. It navigated ductwork, avoided thermal sensors, and bypassed digital safeguards with the subtlety of a master thief. Inside, he saw the startup's quiet offices—desks and prototypes left as if the engineers would return in a few hours. By the time they did, Minoru's listening device would be in place, collecting hints of future tech breakthroughs and confidential client lists.
"This is just the beginning," he whispered, allowing himself a rare, genuine smile. On his monitors, encrypted feeds and scanning protocols gave way to clear recordings and stolen blueprints. He was, even now, weaving invisible threads of influence. He would grow stronger in secret, learning how to bend the city's networks to his will. These small heists and training exercises would one day scale up to move entire corporations, shift economic tides, and perhaps even topple corrupt regimes.
"I will become the unseen hand," he said, voice low with conviction. "The one who watches from the shadows. The Eminence in Shadow… powered by technology."
Outside, the city's lights continued their silent vigil. No siren sounded; no alarm rang. Inside Minoru's room, only the quiet hum of electronics bore witness to the birth of a new force—one hidden behind darkened windows and a boy's unremarkable face, yet destined to shape the world's fate from the shadows.
~!~
Later that night, Umbra-01 hovered silently in the cramped ventilation shaft, the confined space forcing its rotors to slow to a near whisper. Dust motes drifted past its lens, barely illuminated by the drone's low-intensity navigation lights. Its micro-rotors, sculpted from advanced composite materials, emitted only the faintest hum—so quiet that it blended seamlessly into the distant hum of the building's HVAC system. On Minoru's monitors, the drone's camera feed displayed every detail in crisp, night-vision clarity: the matte finish of ductwork, the shallow scratches on metal surfaces left by maintenance crews, and the color-coded wiring bundles that snaked along the shaft's inner walls. Tiny LED indicators blinked at regular intervals, highlighting network nodes and sensor junctions. For a relatively small tech startup, the office was more fortified than one might expect—an invisible tension suggested deeper secrets lurking beneath its polished corporate veneer. Yet Minoru had anticipated this. He thrived in the space where technology and secrecy intertwined.
He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes reflecting lines of green code and flickering data overlays. The subtle scent of heated circuitry filled his own workspace, where an array of monitors and custom-built consoles formed his command center. Everything around him hummed with purpose: cooling fans, processors running at the edge of their capacity, encrypted connections flickering in and out of remote servers. Every contingency had been planned. If Umbra-01's signal was detected, Minoru had coded a self-destruct sequence to fry its internal components instantly, leaving nothing but a charred husk and scrambled silicon. He knew failure was not an option, and contingency was his personal art form.
"Access point, twelve meters ahead," he muttered into the silence, a note of calm confidence in his voice. "Obstacle… vent cover."
On-screen, Umbra-01's manipulator arm extended with mechanical precision. The miniature multi-tool at its tip whirred silently, its edges refined to apply just the right torque to each screw. The drone carefully engaged the fasteners one by one, each turn deliberate and soundless. It removed the vent grate without so much as a metallic scrape, sliding it aside with a practiced delicacy that bordered on artistry. Minoru's eyes narrowed in satisfaction—this was going exactly as rehearsed.
"Perfect," he said quietly, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. "Now, into the den of secrets."
The drone dipped through the revealed opening and into the office below. Its camera adjusted seamlessly, compensating for the darkness. This was a nocturnal forest of technology: rows of desks sprouted with prototypes like strange mechanical flora. The only illumination came from the soft glow of screensaver animations drifting lazily across monitors and the quiet blinking of LED status lights on various devices. PC towers, VR rigs, half-assembled circuit boards, and precision tools formed a bizarre ecosystem of innovation. The air down here smelled faintly of solder, cleaning solvents, and synthetic polymers.
"Where would I hide something valuable?" Minoru thought aloud, tapping his chin lightly. He surveyed the projected map, reading thermal signatures and electromagnetic frequencies. On his screen, the drone's infrared scanner outlined a locked server cabinet tucked in the far corner—its interior cooler than the ambient air, likely due to insulation and shielding.
"There," he decided, marking the cabinet with a digital waypoint. The server cabinet was no ordinary storage unit: it boasted advanced biometric locks and layers of electromagnetic shielding that would stymie less prepared intruders. Minoru's anticipation grew. Most would give up here. He lived for such challenges.
Umbra-01 drifted over silent carpet fibers and artificial flooring, its propulsion carefully modulated to avoid stirring the air. Perching above the cabinet like a mechanical hawk, it deployed a small sensor that scanned the biometric panel. Minoru's customized software kicked in, comparing heat residues, latent oils, and micro-abrasions left by previous users. The drone's processor ran lines of code that emulated a fingerprint overlay in real-time, forging a perfect counterfeit that fooled the sensors. Within moments, the lock's indicators shifted from red to green with a soft, obedient click.
"Too easy," Minoru whispered, suppressing a chuckle. He felt his pulse pick up, not from fear but from the exhilaration of piercing another layer of secrecy. Every successful step was a testament to his meticulous planning and skill.
As Umbra-01 pulled open the cabinet door, it revealed a sleek black device—no larger than a briefcase, featureless yet humming faintly with internal electronics. It bore no brand, no serial number, no external hints of purpose. Minoru's eyes narrowed. He knew significance often hid behind unassuming appearances.
"An encrypted storage module," he mused, tilting his head as if to peer into its digital heart. "I bet it's hiding something juicy."
Umbra-01's manipulator arm extended once more, this time producing a data probe with a specialized connector. The drone slid the probe into a subtle port, almost invisible against the device's casing. On Minoru's main screen, strings of encrypted code scrolled rapidly. He watched as his decryption algorithms began their labor, peeling away the first layer of encryption like the skin of an onion. A hint of satisfaction bloomed in his chest.
Then a sudden spike flared on his network monitor, a stark red warning line cutting across his calm interface. "Unknown device detected," read the alert. Minoru's smirk dissolved instantly. Someone was trying to pinpoint his signal, to trace him back to his hidden lair. His fingers flew over the keyboard, activating layers of counter-intrusion measures—VPN rerouting, cipher rotations, dummy traffic, and honeypots that led attackers down digital dead ends. He wove digital illusions at breakneck speed to mask his presence.
On the drone's feed, a small red LED on the briefcase-like device began blinking rapidly. A booby trap. The device's creators had expected infiltration and prepared a counter. A challenge within a challenge.
"They booby-trapped it?" Minoru muttered, leaning forward, adrenaline sharpening his focus. "Interesting. This is getting fun."
The drone, obeying a rapid command, retracted its data probe, halting the incomplete download. Simultaneously, a faint clicking sound echoed through the dark office. Minoru heard it through the drone's sensitive mics: footsteps, measured and purposeful. He stiffened, scanning the feed. A tall, lean figure entered the office, dressed in dark, practical clothing. No security uniform, no baton, no flashlight. Instead, this intruder carried themselves with quiet confidence, as if they had rehearsed this infiltration long before.
"Company?" Minoru hissed through clenched teeth. He guided Umbra-01 up toward the shadows of a ceiling beam, nestling it behind a cluster of ductwork and cable trays. The drone's camera zoomed in, adjusting focus to track the newcomer's every subtle movement.
The figure approached the server cabinet, crouching low to inspect the lock. They pulled out a handheld scanner, emitting a quick pulse of light to probe the interior. Minoru watched their reaction—confusion, alertness. They noticed the tampering, recognized that someone had beaten them here by mere minutes. Then, with a fluidity that belied deep training, they looked upward—directly at the drone's hiding spot. Minoru's heart leapt into his throat. How could they have sensed it?
"Time to go," he breathed, fingers executing the escape command. Umbra-01 darted back toward the open vent, but the figure moved with inhuman speed, hurling a small object into the air. An EMP grenade, Minoru realized too late. The grenade pulsed blue-white, discharging a wave of crackling energy that wreaked havoc on the drone's delicate systems. The feed on Minoru's monitor vanished into static, and then nothing.
Minoru stared at the now-blank screen, teeth gritted. He hadn't lost like this in years. Umbra-01's remains would tell no tales, but the device was lost, and the data remained locked away. Whoever that figure was, they weren't ordinary muscle or a half-hearted competitor. Their gear, their reaction time, their aura of quiet competence—these were signs of a formidable opponent, one who understood the game intimately.
"Who was that?" Minoru muttered into the hushed darkness of his own command center. He clenched and unclenched his fists, mind racing through possibilities. They had been prepared. Prepared for him. It both angered and excited him. He felt the blood thrum in his temples, but not from defeat. This was the thrill of meeting a worthy adversary—someone who could push him beyond his comfort zone.
With a slow exhale, he leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth curling up in a mischievous grin. "Looks like the shadows are deeper than I thought," he said, voice steady with renewed determination. "This isn't over. If they're playing the game, I'll make sure I'm the one writing the rules."
He opened a new project file on his console, labeling it Umbra-02. A new design, improved armor, updated infiltration protocols, enhanced countermeasures. He would upgrade everything. He was already envisioning it: stronger encryption, more subtle infiltration methods, and counter-EMP shielding. This loss wasn't a dead end, but an invitation. The secretive opponent had acknowledged him. Now he would redouble his efforts, evolve, adapt, and return to claim victory.
"Let's see who breaks first," he said softly, eyes glittering with a fierce resolve. A new chapter had begun. The game was afoot, and Minoru would settle for nothing less than total mastery.
~!~
Minoru Kageno leaned back in his chair, allowing the glow of his monitors to bathe his face in shifting green and gold patterns. The lines of code were like living organisms, swarming across his screen as his custom scripts evolved. The recent loss of Umbra-01 stung, but not as a wound. Rather, it was a spark—an ignition of something far more ambitious. Losing the drone had been both failure and opportunity. Now he knew the contours of the battlefield: there were forces out there who played at a higher tier than casual corporate guards or low-rent thieves. Instead of discouraging him, that knowledge set his blood ablaze.
"They were good," he admitted under his breath, fingers hovering over the keyboard. For a moment, he pictured the mysterious figure who took down his drone, recalling the efficient throw of the EMP grenade and the uncanny ability to sense Umbra-01's presence. "But good isn't enough." His voice was calm, resolved. He welcomed the challenge, because now he understood the stakes—and how much further he had to push himself.
As he cracked his knuckles and resumed typing, lines of code scrolled down his monitor in an elegant dance. The digital environment around him thrummed with potential. Umbra-02 wouldn't just be a machine; it would be the culmination of his lessons learned, a reflection of his growing prowess. If Umbra-01 had been a promising concept, Umbra-02 would be a masterwork—a living, evolving tool that could handle any scenario he threw at it.
Minoru's cramped bedroom workshop sprang to life with a new purpose. The desk that once served as a makeshift hangar for Umbra-01 now overflowed with parts scavenged from online marketplaces, underground bazaars, and the occasional "unofficial" acquisition. Reinforced carbon-fiber plates stacked like puzzle pieces, accompanied by microprocessors neatly stored in anti-static bags, high-fidelity optical sensors with fish-eye lenses, and coils of advanced wiring made from cutting-edge alloys. Every piece felt like a precious relic, an ingredient in a recipe for something extraordinary.
Mobility was the first challenge. Umbra-01 had flown gracefully, but flight alone was a limitation. The world was made of corners and crevices, tunnels and crawlspaces. Umbra-02 would navigate them all. Minoru envisioned a frame that could reconfigure itself: telescopic legs for climbing, retractable treads for rolling silently through vents, miniature drills or sonic emitters to burrow through soft material if need be. The rotors wouldn't just lift the drone; they'd be powerful enough to support Minoru's own weight briefly, allowing for dramatic escapes or unexpected vantage points. He imagined escaping from a rooftop by clinging to his creation, or hovering outside a high-rise window to plant a listening device. Every scenario he conjured was another reason to enhance the machine's versatility.
"Adaptive design," Minoru murmured, as he sketched a blueprint on his tablet. His stylus traced lines that would become reality. "No more predictable movements. I need something that can think on its own." This was where he would push beyond traditional programming. He would integrate a learning AI, a neural network that could analyze data and evolve with each mission. Not a mindless algorithm, but a hungry intellect.
The AI, codenamed Delta, would be his digital hound. He fed it endless data: surveillance footage from public cameras, recordings of animals hunting in the wild, combat simulations, infiltration tutorials, tactical squad maneuvers from obscure military manuals. He even borrowed from nature documentaries—footage of panthers stalking prey, snakes slithering unseen through underbrush, hawks diving silently from above. The idea was to create a predator's instinct within a digital framework. Delta would internalize these strategies and learn how to adapt them in a high-tech environment.
"Learn from nature," Minoru said with a grin, tapping a command that fed yet another set of videos into Delta's training set. "Predators don't just hunt—they stalk, adapt, and strike with precision." As days passed, the AI's code matured, each iteration shaving microseconds off reaction times, improving pathfinding, and refining decision-making protocols. Delta would be housed exclusively in Umbra-02—no external links that could be hacked, no remote server that could betray them. Delta would exist in a fortress of black-box encryption inside the drone's core processor, loyal only to Minoru.
Of course, defense and infiltration tools were equally important. Umbra-02 would need a micro-EMP device to disable electronics—no one would catch it off-guard again without paying a price. It needed grappling hooks for stealthy escapes, powerful aftermarket rotors for lifting or carrying heavy payloads, and an experimental nanite-based self-repair system so that damage sustained in the field wouldn't spell the end. Minoru moved through these enhancements methodically, testing each idea against hypothetical scenarios. He pictured break-ins thwarted at the last second, laser grids and motion sensors rendered useless by a well-timed EMP blast, or Umbra-02 snatching a crucial component from under an enemy's nose.
In the days that followed, Minoru's behavior did not go unnoticed. He grew quieter, more absorbed. During class, he barely responded to roll call, and when teachers asked questions, he gave generic answers that allowed him to slip back into obscurity. Akane's curious gaze lingered on him from across the room. His parents remarked that he looked tired and pale, but they, too, were easily placated. After all, Minoru was something of a prodigy; the computers obeyed him, the household ran smoothly thanks to his silent improvements. His parents rarely pried into his projects, seeing him as a quiet genius too lost in his own world to need their guidance. They reveled in the convenience Minoru's inventions brought—automatic lighting, self-adjusting thermostats, grocery deliveries arranged without lifting a finger. In their comfort, they left him alone.
That was exactly what Minoru wanted: time and solitude. Uninterrupted sessions where sparks arced across circuit boards in the dead of night, where the only witnesses to his labor were the whir of miniature drills and the faint crackle of solder fusing metal and silicon. Umbra-02 took shape piece by piece. The drone's plating was as black as deep space, its edges sharp and angular, designed to slice through darkness and confuse depth perception. Its sensors were recessed beneath layers of adaptive mesh, making them all but invisible. When he finally activated the rotors, they emitted nothing but a subtle whisper—Minoru had managed to dampen the sound beyond even his expectations.
When it hovered before him for the first time, Minoru felt a surge of pride. He had given this machine not only form, but intelligence and purpose. As Umbra-02 performed its self-checks, its single crimson optical sensor glowed faintly. Minoru could almost see Delta gazing back at him through that eye, curious and attentive, like a newly trained guard dog waiting for a command.
"Perfect," he said softly, smirking at his reflection in the drone's plating. "Now, let's test you in the field."
But before he could plan a new infiltration, he had to deal with the unknown: the figure who destroyed Umbra-01. He reviewed the data he had recovered—a few seconds of fragmented video feed, the blurred silhouette, the EMP grenade bearing a distinctive wolf's head logo encircled by stars. He expanded his net of research, diving into the dark corners of the net. Whispered rumors and half-forgotten files eventually guided him to Fenrir Solutions, a clandestine paramilitary group that specialized in corporate espionage. A name associated with unsolved high-profile incidents, data thefts, and intimidation tactics. Nothing proven, always rumors and conjecture. But Minoru knew better—when secrets were well-hidden, that was proof in itself of serious skill.
"A calling card," he murmured, fingers drumming on his keyboard as he flipped through hacked archives and encrypted chat logs. "They're either arrogant or leaving deliberate breadcrumbs." Fenrir Solutions didn't just take what they wanted; they left subtle marks of their presence, signs that would instill fear and confusion. Their motives remained unclear. Did they want the same tech he was after, or were they guarding it for a client? Either way, they had stepped onto his path.
Minoru smirked. Fenrir's arrogance would be their weakness. No head-on confrontation—he was not a soldier, and he had no desire to become one. Instead, he would conduct information warfare. He would learn their routines, infiltrate their networks, sow false leads and watch them chase phantoms. By the time they realized where their real threat lay, it would be too late.
His plan came together in three steps:
Step One: Reconnaissance.
Umbra-02 would slip into Fenrir's local base of operations, not to steal a prize but to map their security infrastructure, identify their surveillance blind spots, and collect intel on their communication frequencies and command structure.
Step Two: Misdirection.
With that intel, Minoru would weave a tapestry of disinformation, planting evidence that a rival organization was behind their recent setbacks. Fake logs, digital breadcrumbs, and subtle hints would redirect Fenrir's attention toward someone else entirely, stirring chaos within their ranks and drawing their resources away from Minoru's true goals.
Step Three: Counterattack.
Not a traditional assault, but a systematic dismantling of their operations. Blackouts in critical moments. Sensitive data leaked to their enemies. Key personnel misled into dangerous traps. By the time Minoru was done, Fenrir would be too preoccupied and disoriented to interfere with his main objectives.
"Information warfare," Minoru whispered, eyes gleaming with excitement. He reached out and let Umbra-02 settle gently on his desk. The drone's red eye dimmed slightly as if acknowledging the calm before the storm. "Let's see how they handle fighting shadows. After all, I don't need to be seen to be victorious."
He allowed himself a quiet chuckle. The Eminence in Shadow had found a formidable opponent, but far from intimidating him, it only sharpened his resolve. He would strike from behind the veil of zeros and ones, steel and carbon fiber—an invisible hand guiding the fate of those who dared challenge him. Soon, Fenrir Solutions would learn that true power did not stride boldly under the sun; it slipped between cracks in the night, unattainable and unbreakable.
~!~
Late that night, Umbra-02 lifted off Minoru's desk with a whisper of rotor blades. No wasted motion, no unnecessary noise—just a graceful ascent into an ink-black sky. From his seat in front of the monitors, Minoru watched through the drone's camera feed, every angle relayed in crisp, high-definition clarity. The drone was more than just a machine; it was an extension of his will. Its newly-installed adaptive AI, Delta, had spent hours assimilating data—heists, infiltration patterns, animal hunts, and military maneuvers. Now, on its maiden covert mission, it exhibited an almost living awareness, selecting paths with predatory cunning.
The journey led Umbra-02 beyond the twinkling city center. Neon lights gave way to dimly lit warehouses and abandoned lots. Broken streetlamps flickered sporadically, painting the world in a half-light that made shadows stretch unnaturally long. Eventually, the drone's destination emerged in the distance: a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of town, bounded by a chain-link fence and watched over by a smattering of security cameras. To the average observer, it was nothing special—just another storage depot gathering dust at the city's edges.
But Fenrir's presence changed everything. Minoru had identified this location as their local base. Fenrir Solutions—an elite paramilitary group deeply enmeshed in corporate espionage—was not known for flashy displays. Instead, they preferred anonymity, blending into the underbelly of the city's logistics and commerce. Yet Minoru could already see the subtle signs: the meticulous patrol routes, the scattered infrared detectors, the encrypted signals flickering across his network scanner.
From his dimly lit room, Minoru observed the drone's approach, a can of soda in hand. He wore a calm, almost lazy expression, but behind his half-lidded eyes, his mind churned like a supercomputer. "Let's see how good you really are," he whispered, leaning forward. On the screen, Delta displayed several recommended ingress points—a gap in camera coverage near a loading bay, an overhead beam that offered a route to the second floor, and a ventilation shaft with improperly insulated sensors. The flaws in Fenrir's security were there, if you knew how to look.
Umbra-02 ascended to a vantage point above the fence, sensors mapping every guard's movements. The guards paced the perimeter at predictable intervals, their flashlights carving slices of light through the gloom. Cameras panned slowly, stuck to their programming, failing to account for an intruder that could alter form and climb walls. Minoru suppressed a chuckle at their overconfidence. Technology could be a shield, but it could also be a crutch—and here, Fenrir was leaning too heavily.
The drone slipped past the fence in silence. Its rotors were so quiet that the soft hum of a distant air-conditioning unit masked them completely. Once inside, it crept along the warehouse's corrugated metal siding, micro-grappling hooks extending like insect legs, letting it cling and climb without leaving scratches. The warehouse's dull exterior light painted Umbra-02 as little more than a shifting shadow. Inside his room, Minoru sipped his soda, pleased. "Classic mistake," he murmured. "All tech, no intuition."
At a second-story window, Umbra-02 paused. Its sensors detected a thermal alarm designed to trigger if the glass temperature changed abruptly. Minoru watched as the drone deployed a thin layer of nanites—liquid machines that flattened themselves against the pane, equalizing its surface temperature and nullifying the alarm. The AI's subtle hum filtered through Minoru's headphones as it analyzed and adapted. Moments later, the drone's precision laser cutter sliced a clean, silent hole in the glass. Umbra-02 slid inside, leaving the temperature sensors none the wiser.
The interior was a stark contrast to the exterior's emptiness. Rows of crates formed artificial corridors that smelled faintly of machine oil and ozone. A half-dozen workstations glowed in dim, bluish light, their screens revealing reams of encrypted data. Armed operatives wandered between crates, rifles slung over their shoulders, their posture relaxed but vigilant. Above them, catwalks and beams crisscrossed the space like a skeleton frame, creating a labyrinth of vantage points. Umbra-02 took to these upper reaches, its black plating blending with the dark steel girders.
From his command center, Minoru's eyes danced over the newly mapped interior. Delta highlighted points of interest with red outlines: a fortified server rack tucked near the back, a communications hub bristling with antennae and signal boosters on a raised platform, and an armory behind reinforced steel doors—its interior hinted at cutting-edge weapon prototypes. "Let's start with the server," Minoru said quietly, adjusting his posture. The drone obliged, scuttling along the ceiling beams with a grace that felt almost biological. It dropped silently onto the server rack, attaching a multi-pronged data probe. Green lines of code on Minoru's monitor flickered as Umbra-02's worm began its work. Fenrir's encryption was dense, but Minoru's custom algorithms unraveled it bit by bit, revealing troves of data: blackmail material on government officials, secret contracts with criminal organizations, and blueprints for experimental tech. Fenrir was more than a shadowy firm; it was a nexus of corruption and influence.
"And now it's my web," Minoru said, lips curling into a grin. He filtered data packets, siphoning what he needed and leaving false trails for later. Next, the drone moved to the communications hub. Minoru had no interest in destroying Fenrir—yet. Instead, he planted his own digital seeds: a worm that would corrupt their files, scramble internal comms, and force Fenrir's operatives to chase ghosts. It was the perfect weapon: subtle, insidious, and time-delayed. "Let's see how you operate when you're chasing shadows," he murmured, leaning back as if enjoying a good movie.
Umbra-02 had accomplished its primary goals. Minoru guided it toward the exit route. The drone navigated back to the window, ready to slip into the night. But suddenly, Delta displayed an alert—footsteps too light, too measured, not part of the guard's routines. Minoru's heart quickened. He remembered the figure who downed Umbra-01, the operative whose face he had glimpsed only briefly. Now, she stepped into view beneath the drone, her form cutting a lean, deadly silhouette. She wore a sleek black suit, and there was something in her posture that screamed absolute control and mastery. She paused, scanning the rafters as if listening to the silence.
"Patience," Minoru whispered, barely breathing. He watched her move. She had the aura of a predator—a hawk searching for the slightest motion. Umbra-02 froze, its plating blending seamlessly with the dark beam. For a moment, Minoru dared to hope she would pass by. But something in her training or intuition tipped her off. Her gaze snapped upward, locking onto the exact spot where Umbra-02 hid.
"Detected," Minoru said through clenched teeth. "Delta, evasive maneuvers!" The drone responded instantly, dropping from the beam just as a throwing knife zipped through the air, embedding itself into the metal with a sharp ping. The operative gave chase, drawing a compact EMP pistol designed for close encounters. But Umbra-02 was not Umbra-01. It weaved between crates, shifting its configuration mid-flight, reducing its silhouette. It deployed decoy flashes—tiny bursts of bright light and chaff to confuse thermal and optical sensors—and crawled under a conveyor belt, then hopped over a barricade.
Minoru's fingers danced over the keyboard, feeding escape commands as fast as he could think them. The drone made for the window, deploying a micro-explosive that shattered the glass outward without a sound loud enough to alert distant patrols. Once outside, its rotors spun at maximum thrust, sending it darting into the starless night. The figure watched from the broken window, her posture relaxed, a small, dangerous smile on her lips. She'd nearly caught it. This wasn't over.
~!~
Late at night, in the hush that followed Fenrir's infiltration, Minoru found himself perched at the threshold of a new and more dangerous world—an uninvited guest had arrived. Before he could dive back into Fenrir's files, his ears caught a subtle disturbance. He stilled, hand hovering over his keyboard, listening intently. This was no household creak of wood settling or the comforting hum of electronics. It was footsteps, cautious and deliberate.
He glanced at the digital clock on his monitor's edge, confirming what he already knew: no one should be here. His parents were away, enjoying an all-expenses-paid hot springs trip in Okinawa. They had even taken the family dog, John, leaving him blissfully alone—or so he'd thought. While others might have found the exclusion hurtful, Minoru had been secretly relieved. Their absence meant fewer distractions. Now, though, he wished he had a barking deterrent. Instead, silence pressed in, and he felt the subtle shift in the air that only a true predator's presence could create.
Another step. Then another. A soft click echoed from downstairs—the sound of a lock expertly circumvented or a latch eased open. Minoru's heart quickened, not out of fear, but out of anticipation. Someone was here. Someone who wasn't supposed to be.
He rose slowly, careful not to scrape the legs of his chair against the floor. The corridor light was off; he had left it that way to remain shrouded in darkness, but now it worked against him. He strained his ears for a clue, his eyes flicking to the open door of his bedroom as he considered his options. Should he hide? Attempt a quick escape through the window? Set one of his improvised traps?
Before he could decide, the door to his room creaked open, and there she stood—the woman from the warehouse, framed by the faint glow of his monitors. She slipped into the room soundlessly, each movement economical, as if choreographed. Her presence radiated a quiet, lethal confidence. Just as Minoru had studied infiltration and surveillance tactics, this woman must have studied human prey. Her posture, her calm breathing, her unwavering eyes—everything about her said she was used to being in control.
"Minoru Kageno," she said, her voice a smooth current of sound amidst the silence. Her eyes roamed over his workshop with mild amusement. The tangle of electronics, the reams of code visible on his monitors, the half-hidden tools—it must have looked like a secret command center. "You've been busy."
Minoru's mind raced. She had come straight here, which meant she'd followed the trail from the warehouse or had sources feeding her intel on his identity. Either way, she'd made her move boldly. No reinforcements announced themselves, no clumsy ambushes. Just her—an assassin so self-assured she needed no backup.
He forced a casual grin, leaning back in his chair as if he were about to greet a classmate. "Funny, I was just about to look you up," he said with airy confidence. "Didn't expect you to save me the trouble."
The woman stepped further into the room, and as the angle changed, Minoru noticed how her eyes sharpened, scanning for escape routes and concealed weapons. Her earlier amusement gave way to a measured seriousness, though there remained a flicker of playful challenge in her gaze.
"You're talented," she said, taking note of the complex setup. "Too talented for a high school student. But talent doesn't excuse arrogance."
Minoru tilted his head, as if contemplating her words. On the surface, he looked relaxed, but inside he was assessing her stance, the angle of her shoulders, the tension in her legs. She was ready to pounce at any second. "Arrogance?" he repeated softly, letting a small laugh escape his lips. "I call it ambition."
A smirk touched her lips as she drew a sleek, matte-black knife from a hidden sheath. The metal reflected the soft glow of his monitors, a whispered hint of danger. "Let's see if ambition keeps you alive."
Minoru's grin widened, the adrenaline surging through his veins. This was it—everything he had trained for. "Let's find out," he said, voice low.
A hush fell over the room, thick and charged. He could almost taste the tension, each breath more deliberate than the last. While others his age might have panicked, Minoru felt alive. The very shadows he once longed to manipulate were now pressing down on him, testing him, daring him to prove he belonged.
"I hope you're not thinking of calling for help," the woman said, casually flipping the knife in her hand. "By the time anyone arrives, it'll be too late."
Minoru chuckled, leaning even further back, as though her threat was a poor joke. "Call for help? Nah." He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving her weapon. "This is much more fun."
"Fun?" she echoed, voice edged with disbelief. "You really don't understand who you're dealing with, do you?"
"I've got an idea," Minoru replied smoothly. His tone was light, almost mocking. He knew he was playing with fire, but that was the whole point. He glanced at her knife, then back at her face. "The question is—do you know who you're dealing with?"
For the briefest moment, her smirk deepened. Then, without warning, she lunged, her blade a silver flash aimed straight for his throat. Minoru was already moving. He vaulted backward over his chair, forcing it toward her as a makeshift shield before rolling across the floor and snatching a hidden metal baton from beneath his desk.
They clashed in a shower of sparks as the baton met the blade. The woman's strikes were crisp and precise, each blow honed to kill. She moved like a machine, every attack part of a calculated sequence. By contrast, Minoru's style was wild and unpredictable—a brew of street brawling, self-taught techniques, and countless nights of ambushing gang members for fun and practice. He adapted on the fly, slipping out of her patterns and forcing her to adjust.
"You're good," she admitted, surprise creeping into her voice as he parried another strike. "For a kid."
Minoru smirked as he ducked under a slash, lashing out with a quick jab that knocked her off balance. "Good? I'm aiming for legendary," he said. It was not a boast, but a statement of fact. His eyes gleamed with a kind of mania reserved for those who revel in trials that would break lesser souls.
She came at him harder now, blades singing through the air. He gave ground, evaluating her moves. There was something off, something too perfect about her reflexes. When a human fought, even a trained one, there were tells—micromovements, uneven breathing, the subtle lag between thought and action. This woman had none of that. It was as if she anticipated his moves a fraction of a second before he made them.
"You're enhanced," he said, twisting away from a lethal thrust. His voice grew analytical, the playful bravado fading at the edges. "Not just training. There's something else." He felt a subtle, intangible presence radiating from her—something that defied his understanding.
She hesitated for a split second, and Minoru seized the opening, pressing forward aggressively. He drove her back across the room until both were breathing heavily, locked in a deadly dance.
"You're sharper than I thought," she admitted, holding her knife low, ready to pounce again. "But it won't save you." Her eyes hardened, and he sensed she was preparing a final, decisive attack.
Minoru twirled his baton and took a measured step back, even as adrenaline thrummed in his veins. "Let me guess—Fenrir didn't send you just because I hacked their files. There's something bigger at play."
She stiffened, and the smug amusement drained from her face. "You truly don't know what you've stepped into, do you? The shadows you're so eager to play in… they belong to us."
A chill ran down Minoru's spine, followed immediately by an exhilarating rush. "Us?"
"The Cult of Diabolos," she answered, voice low and dangerous. "Fenrir is just a front—a tool to gather resources and silence threats. And you? You've just painted a target on your back."
Minoru's thoughts flashed to the rumors he'd always dismissed—ancient whispers of a clandestine group manipulating the world's fate from behind a curtain of myth. He had assumed such stories were legends, internet memes, late-night message board fabrications. Now, staring into the eyes of one of their operatives, he realized they were real, and they considered him worthy of notice.
"The Cult of Diabolos, huh?" he said, his grin returning with renewed intensity. "So I've finally caught your attention. Took you long enough."
"You think this is a game?" she asked, incredulous. Her composure faltered for an instant, as if she couldn't comprehend his flippancy in the face of certain death.
"For me, it is," Minoru replied, his tone maddeningly casual. It was time to show her that he wasn't just an overconfident kid. He was the wild card, the variable they couldn't predict. "And I just leveled up."
Before she could form a retort, his hand darted under the desk, finding a hidden button. The room filled with thick smoke as a concealed emitter hissed to life, stinging the air and obscuring their vision. The woman hissed, momentarily blinded, slashing uselessly at the space where Minoru had stood.
In that heartbeat of confusion, he seized a prearranged escape route. A rope anchored outside the window waited for him. He vaulted onto the sill and swung out into the alley, his landing muffled by the shadows and the distant hum of nighttime traffic.
Above him, Umbra-02 hovered in silent vigil. He grabbed onto its reinforced harness, and the drone lifted him skyward, away from his would-be assassin. As the wind rushed past, Minoru looked down at the city lights. The cult had revealed themselves. They thought they owned the darkness, but now he knew their name, their methods, and their arrogance.
The night stretched out before him, full of possibilities. He was no mere intruder in their domain. He was Minoru Kageno, the self-appointed Eminence in Shadow, and he would turn their fearsome reputation against them. They had stepped out of the stories and into his world, and now he would make them regret it.
As Umbra-02 carried him into the darkness, Minoru's pulse thrummed with anticipation. He had found something to challenge his ambitions, to test his mettle. A grin stretched across his face as he whispered into the night, "Time to bring your entire operation crumbling down… from the shadows."
~!~
Hours later, Umbra-02 returned to Minoru's backup workshop—an unassuming rented storage unit near the industrial district. He flicked on a desk lamp, its warm, golden glow revealing a cramped space strewn with spare parts, soldering irons, and a few sealed crates. He set the drone on a makeshift charging dock and began combing through the stolen data. His triumphant smirk faded into thoughtful intensity as he parsed Fenrir's files. They weren't just mercenaries-for-hire. This operation was bigger: hidden partnerships, encrypted correspondences pointing to something called the Cult of Diabolos—a shadowy organization rumored to manipulate the world from behind the scenes.
Minoru paused at a file labeled "Project Epsilon." Its encryption was denser than anything he'd seen from Fenrir so far. This had to be something critical, maybe a keystone of their plans. He didn't try to crack it now—he would need time, and more computing power. Instead, he looked over the names, the places, and cross-referenced them with his own stolen intelligence. The pieces began to form a pattern, a constellation of hidden influences. He felt exhilaration course through him. The Cult of Diabolos was real, and they had noticed him. Perfect.
He recalled the confrontation in his own bedroom, just hours earlier. The same woman who'd nearly downed Umbra-02 had broken into his home. He could still feel the tension in the air, see the gleam of her knife, and taste the adrenaline in his throat. She had called him arrogant, accused him of underestimating her strength. Yet he had held his own, escaping into the night with a roguish grin. That wasn't fear he felt—it was delight. He wanted to face them again, to outmaneuver these so-called masters of the shadows.
As the night pressed on, Minoru set to work. Surrounded by silent crates and humming computer fans, he refined his next moves: analyzing Fenrir's network traffic, preparing new exploits, planning future infiltration routes. He installed fresh defense systems in his new hideout. He would remain mobile and unpredictable. The Cult of Diabolos had shown their hand, and now Minoru would ensure that every step they took toward him led them deeper into his web.
Outside, the city slept, unaware of the quiet war being waged in its underbelly. In a world of hidden powers, Minoru Kageno was carving a place for himself—a place where he was the one pulling strings. The Cult thought they owned the shadows, but Minoru knew better. He had earned his right to dwell in darkness and bend it to his will. He would orchestrate their downfall with the same detached thrill an artist feels before painting a masterpiece.
As he settled into his chair, encrypting his new files and preparing to crack "Project Epsilon," a smile hovered on his lips. He didn't just want to survive against this mysterious cult—he wanted to claim the shadows for himself. And if the Cult of Diabolos believed they could intimidate him, they were about to discover just how wrong they were.
He was smiling.
Chapter 1 Extra: *******'s Perspective
The smoke cleared slowly, the faint scent of ozone and burning chemicals lingering like a memory. stood in the dim glow of the monitors, her knife clenched tightly in her hand. She scanned the room with a hunter's intensity—nothing moved, no whisper of footsteps betrayed Minoru's return. He was gone. Her jaw tightened. She had let him slip away.
The boy—no, the threat—had vanished into the night, leaving her with only questions and the unsettling realization that she had underestimated him. A teenager had held his ground, nearly matching her blow for blow. That alone was difficult to rationalize.
She sheathed her knife in a swift, controlled motion. Her orders had been clear: identify the boy's capabilities, neutralize him if necessary, and retrieve any stolen data. Now, she had to report a failure. For someone of her standing, failure was anathema.
A quick survey of the room told her he was no common hacker. Disassembled gadgets covered the desk like puzzle pieces waiting for assembly, each one advanced beyond standard consumer tech. Weapon prototypes and unconventional surveillance tools—he was building these in secret, under his family's nose, in a suburban bedroom. Every detail hinted that the boy's talents were far from ordinary. This wasn't an amateur dabbling in cybercrime; this was an innovator, a tactician who had planned for contingencies even she hadn't anticipated.
Her communicator buzzed. She tapped the device in her ear, voice low and composed. "This is *******. Target escaped."
The reply crackled in her earpiece: "Unacceptable. You were told to handle this swiftly. The Kageno boy is a liability."
"I underestimated him," ******* said, curt and honest. Pride was a luxury she could not afford here.
"He's not just a liability. He's an anomaly."
"Explain." The command was terse, but curiosity edged the voice on the other end.
******* moved closer to Minoru's workbench, her fingers trailing over a half-completed grappling hook launcher. It was sleek, compact, and more advanced than standard issue military gear. He'd been on the cusp of finishing it—how long until he perfected something like this and put it to use?
"His combat skills are advanced," she reported, lifting the prototype to examine its mechanisms. The craftsmanship was meticulous. "He fights as if he's had years of frontline experience. But it's more than that. His intellect… his tech surpasses standard designs. And the way he anticipated my moves, it was as though he could predict my strategy in real-time."
She set the device down gently, taking care not to make a sound. "This isn't natural. He's too far ahead for his age, his background. It's as if he's been preparing for this his entire life."
A weighted silence passed. Finally, the voice spoke, "Interesting. Could he be an asset for our cause?"
"No." ******* replied immediately, voice resolute. "He's too dangerous. He doesn't seem to crave power for its own sake, nor justice, nor survival. His motivation is… elusive. He acts as if this is a game, as if he's orchestrating a grand performance we can't see."
"Then eliminate him," the voice said coldly.
*******'s gaze swept the room again, noting how cleverly Minoru had arranged his escape routes, his failsafes. He had encrypted and purged his system; no data remained to plunder. This was someone who always expected company, someone who planned three steps ahead.
"With respect, I don't think that's possible. Not yet," she said. "Killing him will require more than brute force. He's resourceful, unpredictable. If we attack him head-on, he'll slip through again."
"Then we'll use precision. Have you secured the stolen files?"
Her lips thinned. "No. He encrypted and wiped them before I arrived."
A faint note of amusement laced the reply: "Clever indeed. Very well. Return to base for debriefing. We'll escalate the operation."
Then, as if reading her mind, a final text-based warning flashed across her communicator's interface:
"Do not fail us again, Agent Olivier."
Olivier's eyes narrowed at the message. She pressed her lips into a tight line. Failure. She detested that word. For the Cult of Diabolos, there was no margin for error—and yet here she was. Slowly, she stepped out into the hallway, leaving no trace of her presence behind. As silently as she had come, she slipped out of the house, becoming just another phantom in the tranquil suburb.
As she made her way to the extraction point, her thoughts turned to Project Epsilon. This elusive operation had indirectly led her to Minoru Kageno. Even within the Cult, Epsilon was whispered about in hushed tones. It was rumored to revolve around a long-lost artifact tied to ancient legends of a demon, Diabolos—a central pillar of the Cult's twisted history. Epsilon was not just another mission; it was the key to unlocking something monumental and dangerous, something that could redefine their power in the world.
She'd glimpsed the prototype once—a humanoid figure enhanced by forbidden alchemy and cutting-edge tech. A living weapon, an ultimate enforcer. Its existence hinted at the Cult's ultimate ambition: to tap directly into the essence of Diabolos. If they succeeded, their influence would become absolute.
But how had Minoru discovered it? How had he even gleaned fragments of Epsilon's existence among Fenrir's files? Fenrir, after all, was merely a proxy, a layer of obfuscation for the Cult's true intentions. For him to have found hints of something so deeply buried spoke volumes about his skill and his daring. He was peeling back their layers at an alarming pace.
A chill tickled down Olivier's spine. She considered herself a predator, a blade wielded by the Cult with impeccable precision. She had taken down countless targets, most of them seasoned fighters, cunning criminals, or highly trained operatives. Yet this high school boy had forced her to retreat, to report failure.
As the black transport vehicle pulled up, its tinted windows revealing nothing of the occupants inside, Olivier paused. She felt a subtle unease, a nagging question gnawing at her confidence: were they dealing with a mere prodigy, or something more? Minoru Kageno moved in the shadows with a confidence that suggested he'd been there for years, waiting for opponents like her. He had challenged a member of the Cult's elite and walked away, grinning as he vanished into the dark.
The Cult prided itself on operating in the deepest shadows, puppeteering the fate of nations. But now a new player had entered their domain, one they had not foreseen. Minoru Kageno was an outlier, an anomaly. And anomalies, in the Cult's experience, could be the most dangerous of all.
Olivier stepped into the vehicle, pulling the door shut behind her. The engine purred quietly as they slipped away into the city's labyrinth of streets. She resolved to learn from this encounter. Next time, she would be prepared. Next time, the advantage would be hers.
Yet, as the car accelerated, a whisper of doubt echoed in her mind: who was truly the predator, and who was the prey?
For the first time, the idea that their carefully woven tapestry of secrets and power could unravel at the hands of a single, cunning opponent began to take root. Minoru Kageno might be a mere teenager, but he represented something new, something unpredictable—a rising darkness dancing at the edge of their vision, mocking them with its elusive shape.
And that, Olivier knew, was the kind of threat the Cult of Diabolos had never learned how to contain.
~!~
Author's Note: I did not expect to return to writing Fanfiction!
A whole lot of stuff happened during the time I was looking for work and now… not all of it pretty, as many can relate. Found love, and happiness…and lost love, and gained sorrow, the normal for any human in the 21st century.
I am trying again on The Eminence in Shadow fandom because it is an anime and series that absolutely captivated me, and I wanted to write my own foray into this fantastic world.
The Premise is this: What if the future Eminence in Shadow was a tech-nerd? A hacker of the digital world, pissing off his rivals and security forces everywhere with his ill-gotten tech on top of his dream to be the Shadow Broker ruling the world?
When finding out his latest target, something beyond his dreams surfaces…something that changes his entire perspective on what is logical, and what is not.
What changes: A penchant for technology and innovation. Has more in common with a certain tech-head shade in his arsenal.
He is more perceptive, as it is required to do so when being the world's best shadow hacker. This will translate into a skill he will have later.
His desire to defeat the "Nuke": His ambition to be the Nuke mixed with technology focus will change the meaning of "Being the Nuke".
What doesn't change: His core belief in that to be the Eminence in Shadow, he must be the best. He does not slack off in training, he doesn't mingle well with his friends as Minoru, except for one person.
His… "excitable" personality. He will still be the Stylish Bandit Slayer… maybe with a better name… probably.
A few changes to the path he has taken in the original story. Sometimes it may be for the best… or not. We'll see!
Let me know if you need some extra information. I won't spoil it for you, but maybe a hint or two there may be necessary.
As for my older stories: I will revisit them and make a decision. It has been a while since I wrote something, and my personality has shifted a bit when last I wrote my stories.
Thank you, and I'm back!
Terra Ace