My Life Changed with the Unlimited System

The afternoon sun hung low, casting stretched shadows across the cracked pavement as Ethan approached the warehouse.

Each step felt heavier than the last. His heart thudded in his chest, not from exertion, but from dread.

He had never felt this kind of fear before.

Not during exams. Not during losses. Not even during the worst moments of his life.

This was different.

"Please… let them be okay," he whispered, barely able to hear his own voice over the pounding in his ears.

But deep down, he already knew. Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

A chill ran down his spine despite the heat of the afternoon sun. It wasn't instinct. It wasn't logic. It was something more primal. That sinking feeling you get when you're already too late.

"Damn it," Ethan muttered under his breath. "Why didn't I come here first?"

He had wasted precious time circling the city, checking the office, trying to confirm with Jessica's family and all. He thought he was being smart. Thought he was protecting them.

Now he wasn't sure if there was anything left to protect.

As he reached the massive steel doors of the warehouse, he stopped. Just for a second. The faint echoes from within, shouting, crashing, the unmistakable rumble of a battle, sent ice into his veins.

No more waiting.

With a sharp breath, he stepped back and slammed his foot against the rusted door. The hinges groaned and screamed as it burst inward, slamming against the inner wall with a thunderous clang.

What he saw made the world stop.

Jessica was on her knees in the middle of the chaos, her hands pressed to a blood-soaked body. Her fingers trembled, stained red. Her eyes were swollen with tears. She clutched Jordan tightly, her voice broken as she whispered his name again and again.

"Jordan… please. Please, wake up…"

Ethan's eyes locked on the still form in her arms. "Jordan...?"

Jordan's shirt was torn, drenched in blood. A gunshot wound just slightly missed his vitals.

A deep gash just below it. Blood had pooled beneath him, thick and dark, spreading like a shadow across the floor.

His face was pale. Unmoving.

"Jordan!" Ethan staggered forward, his breath caught in his throat.

His mind tried to make sense of the scene, to push down the panic clawing at his chest.

But nothing made sense.

He had come too late.

Too late.

[A/N: I purposely skipped a few scenes to be told in later chapters.]

"Jordan…" Ethan's voice came out like a breath, barely louder than the wind.

His fists clenched at his sides, trembling as a storm of emotion surged through his chest. Panic clawed at the edges of his thoughts, but he forced it down.

"What happened?" he asked, more to himself than anyone else. "Tell me what happened!"

In front of him stood Steve—tall, unmoving, and bloodied. His combat axe hung from his fingers, the blade chipped and scorched, still radiating heat from its last clash.

He stood like a wall, blocking any approach toward Jessica and Jordan, shielding them with the last of his strength.

"Steve..." Ethan was lost for words with what he was seeing next.

Behind Steve, the floor was scorched black. Chunks of concrete were missing. Steel beams twisted like paper. The air still buzzed from the remnants of elemental power.

Steve smiled at Ethan's call as his chest rose and fell heavily. Sweat streamed down the side of his face, mixing with a streak of blood near his brow. He didn't turn. Didn't speak. He couldn't.

He just stood there. Guarding them.

On the other side stood Lucien.

His once-pristine suit was in tatters, stained with soot and blood. His eyes were sharp, but his breathing was uneven. His body trembled slightly, but was it from pain or something darker, it was hard to tell.

Flanking him were Mike and Taison. They were silent, their posture tense. They hadn't made a move, but the air around them hinted that they could explode into violence at any second.

Ethan's eyes darted to the side. He knew that these people might be Ascendants hired by Donald or people of the LaRues.

Verran lay sprawled on his back, his wind aura gone. Kaida lay face down, her cracked earth armor crumbling off her limbs like dust. Dravik was barely recognizable under the blood and bruises. All three of them were still breathing… but only just.

And at the far end of the warehouse was Donald.

His hair was disheveled. His eyes wild.

He held a pistol pressed tightly against the temple of a kneeling man.

Against Joseph Moore, Jessica's father.

The older man's body sagged. His arms hung limp at his sides. His face was slack with exhaustion and despair, and his half-lidded eyes barely registered the weapon at his head.

Ethan's heart stopped.

"Ethan…"

The voice was soft and trembling.

Jessica looked up from where she held Jordan, her face streaked with tears and dirt. Her lip quivered, her eyes begging.

"Please… help."

And then, before Ethan could even respond, everyone present could hear a gunshot.

It ripped through the air.

Joseph's head snapped back. The bullet tore through his skull and burst out the other side in a spray of blood and bone.

He fell like a puppet with cut strings.

"NOOOO!" Jessica's scream tore through the warehouse.

It was raw, guttural, a cry so deep it cracked in her throat. She surged forward, but Steve caught her with one arm and held her back.

She pounded her fists against him, sobbing, "No! Dad! Let me go—!"

Donald stood over the body, a grin of pure cruelty twisted across his face. He pointed the gun toward Jessica, the metal shaking slightly in his grasp.

"Now, now," he said with a sneer. "One more wrong move and—"

He never had the chance to finish the sentence as every words stuck on his throat when he saw Ethan moved.

Ethan's eyes lit up with golden light. And in that instant, the fear, the grief, the helplessness, all of it vanished.

What replaced it was fire.

Ethan didn't shout. He didn't warn.

He simply vanished from where he stood.

And a golden streak split the air in half.