Dante's heart still pounded as he turned the final corner leading to his apartment building. The city had settled into its usual nighttime hum—distant cars, neon signs flickering, and the occasional conversation carried on the wind.
His hands were shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, fingers still tingling with the remnants of power. He flexed them absently, half-expecting the shadows to react again.
Nothing.
But he could feel it.
The darkness wasn't gone.
It was just resting.
As he reached his building, he cast a quick glance around before stepping inside. Paranoia clung to him like a second skin. Was someone watching him? Had the mugger told anyone?
No.
Dante shook his head. Get a grip.
By the time he reached his apartment door, his breathing had steadied. He pushed inside, letting the familiar scent of home wash over him.
Empty.
Good.
His parents weren't home yet.
He needed time to think.
---
Dante stumbled toward the bathroom, shoving the door open and flicking on the light.
The fluorescent glow buzzed, illuminating his reflection.
And what he saw stopped him cold.
Dark tendrils flickered around his fingertips, dissipating like wisps of smoke, but the energy—it was still there.
It coursed through his veins, coiled in his chest, buzzing at the edge of his consciousness. Waiting.
He lifted a trembling hand toward the mirror, his fingers barely brushing the glass.
The shadows moved in response—shifting, stretching toward him like they were alive.
His breath caught.
This wasn't possible.
But it was happening.
Dante Vazquez, the only Zero in existence—
Wasn't a Zero anymore.
And that changed everything.
---
Dante staggered back from the mirror, his heartbeat erratic.
His apartment felt too quiet, like the world had stopped moving the moment he realized the truth. His Gift still pulsed within him, foreign but undeniably real.
He gripped the edges of the sink, his knuckles white.
What had he done?
The memory of the mugger's horrified face flashed in his mind.
> "What—what did you—?"
Dante had taken his power.
And if that was true—if he had absorbed a Gift that wasn't his—then what did that make him?
His breath came faster.
"Calm down," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. "Think."
What had happened in the alley wasn't an accident.
He had touched the mugger's wrist. Something shifted. A force had surged through him, ripping the other boy's ability away.
But why?
How?
Gifts weren't supposed to work like that.
They were innate. A part of someone's DNA, their very identity. They weren't something you could steal.
And yet, here he was.
Dante took a shaky breath, pressing his palms against the sink.
His skin still tingled.
The darkness lingered, coiling just out of reach.
He clenched his fists.
"Test it."
He had power now—real power—and if he didn't understand it, it would control him instead of the other way around.
He turned back to the mirror.
The energy stirred within him, a presence just beneath the surface.
All he had to do was reach for it.
So he did.
---
Dante exhaled slowly, sinking into the feeling of power.
It wasn't like flipping a switch.
It was like tugging on a thread—pulling something from deep inside himself.
The shadows answered.
A thin, wispy tendril of dark energy curled around his fingers, twisting and writhing like a living thing.
Dante swallowed.
It didn't feel wrong.
It felt natural.
The energy pulsed, humming in his bones. The moment he thought about releasing it, the darkness flickered—then dissolved like mist.
Controlled by thought.
"Holy shit."
He did it again—faster. The tendrils burst from his hand, stretching farther before curling inward like snakes returning to their den.
Dante's heart pounded.
He wasn't imagining it.
This was real.
He had taken a Gift.
And now it was his.
A new thought hit him, sinking deep into his mind like a stone into water.
If he could do this once…
Could he do it again?
---
The front door clicked open just as Dante pulled himself out of his thoughts.
His stomach dropped.
His parents were home.
"Dante?" his mother called, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
He barely had time to extinguish the shadows before stepping out of the bathroom.
"Hey," he said, keeping his voice even.
His father trudged in behind her, dropping his work bag by the door and stretching his arms with a groan.
"Long day?" Dante asked, trying to sound casual.
His mother sighed, rubbing her temples. "Too long. The restaurant was slammed. I was on my feet all day."
His father nodded. "Same at the warehouse. We had to stay late because some idiot messed up the inventory."
Dante watched them for a moment.
They were exhausted. This wasn't unusual. His parents worked long hours just to keep the apartment. They came home drained, barely having the energy to talk some nights.
His mother ran a small family-owned restaurant. His father worked at a distribution center—long shifts, low pay.
Dante never wanted to add to their problems.
So when his mother sighed and said, "I don't have the energy to cook tonight," he didn't hesitate.
"I got it," Dante said quickly.
His mother blinked. "You sure?"
"Yeah, it's no problem."
She gave him a tired smile. "Thank you, mijo. You're a lifesaver."
Dante moved to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. Cooking wasn't new to him—he had been making dinner for himself and his parents for years whenever they came home too tired to function.
He went through the motions, grabbing ingredients, preheating the stove.
His hands still tingled.
He ignored it.
Within half an hour, he had a simple meal ready—rice, beans, and some grilled chicken. Nothing fancy, but it was warm, filling, and something normal.
And normal was exactly what he needed right now.
His parents sat at the table, eating in comfortable silence. His mother gave him a grateful smile between bites.
"You're a good kid, Dante," she murmured. "Thank you."
He nodded.
But inside, his mind was racing.
If they knew the truth—if they knew what had happened tonight—would they still look at him the same way?
Would they still trust him?
The thought sat heavy in his chest.
His father pushed back from the table first, stretching again. "I'm heading to bed. Early shift tomorrow."
His mother followed soon after. "Don't stay up too late, Dante."
"I won't," he lied.
The second their bedroom door closed, Dante sat back, staring at his hands.
---
If his ability was Gift Absorption, then he wasn't just some random anomaly.
He was something else entirely.
But there were too many unknowns.
Had the mugger lost his power permanently?
Would it ever return to him?
Could Dante take more than one Gift?
He had no idea.
And there was only one way to find out.
He clenched his fists.
Tomorrow, he would start looking for answers.
And whatever happened next…
There was no turning back.