Falcon darted through the rusted alleyways of Trash No. 45, the stolen necklace clenched tightly in his hand. The sound of furious footsteps echoed behind him.
"You little thieving bitch!" roared Marco. "You really had the guts to steal from Big Daddy Marco?!"
Falcon didn't slow down. If anything, his smirk grew wider. "Big Daddy Marco better step on it, 'cause I, little thieving bitch, am about to pawn your precious treasure."
That did it.
Marco's face twisted in rage, and in a blink, he surged forward with an explosive burst of speed. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he closed the distance in an instant—a clear display of his strength as an F-Class Authorizer.
His hand reached out, nearly brushing Falcon's back—only for Falcon to suddenly drop flat to the ground.
Marco and his lackeys, still moving at full speed, didn't have time to react. Their momentum betrayed them. They stumbled, unable to stabilize due to their acceleration. One even crashed into a garbage stack, sending shattered tech parts flying.
Falcon popped back up, grinning. "Oops. My bad. You guys don't come with brakes?"
But he underestimated Marco.
Clenching his fist, Marco bent the air around him—Authority Compression. The force that had been propelling him vanished, his body halting mid-motion like he'd hit an invisible wall. Without skipping a beat, he flickered to Falcon's side in a short-range teleport, his fist already swinging.
Falcon barely ducked in time, the punch cutting through the air and cracking the concrete wall behind him.
Marco's face twisted into something primal. All pretense was gone now. "I'm gonna tear you apart!"
Falcon's instincts screamed at him—danger.
In one swift motion, he pulled a small, worn ring from his pocket. It was jet-black, simple, and unassuming… but the moment it touched the air, the atmosphere warped.
Marco froze mid-swing, his eyes wide. "W-What…? How the hell do you have a Timeless Ring?! That's—!"
Before he could finish, Falcon vanished—his body swallowed by a ripple of darkness.
Marco was left standing there, eyes bulging, mouth open in stunned silence.
"…What the fuck"
...........
Falcon stumbled into his bunk, lungs heaving, heart racing like it was about to burst. He collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching his chest. That... that might've been the most thrilling moment of his entire miserable life.
He dragged himself onto the edge of the bed, sweat beading down his face. His mind replayed the events from earlier—Marco's strength, the way he manipulated space, the brute force of an F-Class Authorizer.
But even with all that power, Marco had a fatal flaw: zero strategic awareness.
"Guy fights like a tank with a toddler's brain," Falcon muttered, shaking his head. "Never even considered I might have a trump card."
"But if not because of Grandpa and his Timeless ring I might have died"
Because in a real fight? You always assume the other guy has a way out. Some life-saving method. Some dirty trick hidden up his sleeve. If you don't… well, you're the one getting surprised when it happens.
Smart opponents come into a fight already expecting to be betrayed by reality.
He was still catching his breath when a strange thought intruded—fuzzy, but persistent.
The black pearl necklace.
He hadn't even looked at it after the chase. But… the memory of it was crystal clear in his mind. Vivid. Almost implanted. Like it had carved its way into his skull right after he picked up the one-eyed monocle.
His brows furrowed.
"That thing... it did something to me."
He reached into his coat and retrieved the monocle, setting it gently on the worktable. It looked harmless enough—old, dusty, slightly corroded.
Then he grabbed his laser-powered screwdriver and popped the casing open.
His breath caught.
Inside the monocle, silver clockwork gears ticked in eerie harmony, so precise it was like watching a heartbeat. Each gear had tiny runes carved into its surface—foreign symbols, shifting when he wasn't looking directly at them.
"What the hell did Grandpa get his hands on?" Falcon whispered. "And why was he just letting it rot in the scrap pile?"
He stared at the device, thoughts spiraling.
Could he sell it? Maybe. Something this advanced had to be worth a small fortune. With that kind of cash, maybe he could move out of this garbage sector. Get somewhere cleaner. Warmer. Real food. Real—
Crunch.
A sharp pain exploded in his left eye.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Falcon screamed as he stumbled backward, blood pouring down his face.
The monocle had launched itself at him like a predator. It bit into his eye, clamping down with what now looked like jagged, metal teeth. The damn thing was alive.
Falcon screamed again and clawed at the device, trying to rip it free—but it was useless. Every pull sent a fresh wave of agony through his skull. The monocle twisted, embedding itself deeper, fusing with his optic nerves.
The fucking monocle was resisting.
And as the pain peaked, a cold voice echoed in the back of his mind.
"Authorization Sequence Initialized…"
Then—nothing but darkness.