Dante sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers still trembling from the last attempt.
He stared at his hands, his mind racing.
The shadows had been weaker today.
Slower.
Like they were resisting him.
His stomach twisted at the thought.
Was it exhaustion? Overuse?
Or was there something else happening?
Dante exhaled, pressing his palms together. He needed to understand this power, not just use it blindly.
Because if he pushed too far—
What if the shadows just… stopped answering him?
What if he really did go back to being a Zero?
The thought sent a shiver through his spine.
No.
He wouldn't let that happen.
He had fought for this. Bled for it.
This power was his now.
And if it was resisting him, that meant one thing—
He needed to push harder.
---
Dante shut his blinds and took a steady breath.
No distractions.
No risks.
Just him and the darkness.
He lifted his hand, palm up, and focused.
The power stirred.
A wisp of shadow curled around his fingertips—weak, flickering like a candle about to go out.
Dante clenched his jaw.
"Not good enough."
He pushed harder.
The tendrils thickened, but they still felt sluggish, like something was weighing them down.
Was it him?
Was his body struggling to handle it?
Or was there another reason?
He tried shaping the shadows—bending them, twisting them like the mugger had done in the alley.
The result was clumsy. Uneven.
They weren't obeying him fully.
It was like they were… foreign.
Like the power wasn't truly his.
Dante's breath caught.
Was that it?
Was he just borrowing it?
Had he stolen something he wasn't meant to have?
His pulse spiked at the realization.
If that was true—if this ability wasn't fully his—then what happened if he used it too much?
Would it fade away?
Would it break him?
Dante forced himself to breathe.
No. He couldn't afford to think like that.
This power belonged to him now.
And if it wasn't working at full strength—
Then he needed to train it. Master it.
---
Dante spent the next hour experimenting.
Summoning. Shaping. Stretching the shadows as far as he could push them.
At first, they flickered, barely responding.
But the more he worked—
The more they obeyed.
He concentrated, pouring every ounce of focus into bending the darkness to his will.
Tendrils coiled around his fingers, stretching farther than before.
He tried making a simple shape—a blade. A whip.
The result was rough. Uneven.
But it was progress.
Dante exhaled sharply, grinning.
He was getting stronger.
This power was like a muscle—
If he trained it, he could make it his.
He lifted his hand one last time—
And the shadows snapped forward.
Not sluggish. Not weak.
Fast. Sharp.
A burst of raw energy shot out—too fast—
And slammed into his desk.
The impact sent papers flying, knocking over a cup.
Dante's breath hitched.
He hadn't meant to do that.
For a split second, he just stared.
Then he heard a knock at his bedroom door. "Mi ijo, everything okay in there? I heard a loud bang".
His lips curled into a slow, excited grin "Never been better Mom. Just tripped on some clothes". Dante's mother let out a sigh "Ay dios mío! I told you your room is messy; clean it up in there!" Dante heard his mother walk away mumbling explicit words in Spanish. Dante turned his attention back to his testing.
That last attack had been stronger. Faster.
He was getting better.
And he had just barely scratched the surface.
---
The Hunger for More
Dante paced his room, his mind buzzing with possibilities.
If he could train this power—if he could refine it—
What else could he do?
Could he make it stronger than the mugger had?
Could he take it even further?
The thought made his pulse race.
But another thought followed.
If one stolen power was this strong…
What would happen if he took another?
His stomach twisted.
He hadn't considered it before. He had been too shocked, too overwhelmed.
But now?
Now he knew what he was capable of.
Now he understood.
He had the ability to take what wasn't his.
Which meant this didn't have to be the last one.
Dante clenched his fists.
He had spent his whole life at the bottom.
Always looking up. Always the weakest.
But now?
Now he had a way to change that.
He wouldn't be Zero ever again.
---
A New Plan
Dante sat at his desk, tapping his fingers against the wood.
He needed to be smart about this.
He couldn't just go around stealing powers at random.
Not yet.
The mugger had been an accident—but it had taught him something important.
He couldn't just rely on instinct.
If he was going to do this again…
He needed a plan.
Step 1: Master the shadows.
He still wasn't at full strength yet. If his control wavered in a fight, he was as good as dead.
Step 2: Pick the right target.
If he stole the wrong Gift, it could make him weaker, not stronger.
He needed something powerful. Useful.
Something that wouldn't just add to his abilities—
But replace them if necessary.
Step 3: Cover his tracks.
Alyssa had already heard rumors about the mugger.
If people started noticing patterns, he was going to have a problem.
Dante exhaled slowly.
This was dangerous.
But so was being at the bottom.
And he was never going back there again.
---
Dante stood by his window, staring out at the city.
The streets stretched before him, glowing with the faint neon of streetlights and storefronts.
So many people out there.
So many Gifted.
For the first time, he didn't feel jealous of them.
He didn't feel like an outsider, like a nobody.
For the first time, he saw them as opportunities.
He would start small.
Someone easy.
Someone with a Gift worth taking.
And when the time came—
When he was ready—
He would take everything he needed to become unstoppable.
Dante's lips curled into a smirk.
Tonight had been a test. A trial.
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow, he would begin his hunt.