The Dark Matter Sage

The hum of Koreatown's bustling streets surrounded Tony as he parked his delivery van in front of a small grocery store. The smells of street food mingled with the faint tang of exhaust, and a warm breeze carried the sound of chatter and laughter from the sidewalk vendors. He stepped out, carrying a stack of neatly packed boxes toward a nearby shop.

As he approached the entrance, a strange sensation prickled at the edge of his awareness—a vibration different from the everyday chaos of the city. He stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes briefly and focusing. The faint hum of dark energy rippled outward, revealing three distinct figures inside the store next door. Their movements were tense and hurried, vibrating with the unmistakable energy of fear and desperation.

Tony glanced through the window and saw them. Two men in their twenties—one wiry and agitated, the other stocky and jittery—were filling bags with cash and items from the shelves. Nearby, a woman in her early thirties stood by the counter, her hand shaking as she pointed a gun at a teenage clerk, a girl barely old enough to be working alone. The woman's disheveled appearance and rapid, twitchy movements screamed of drug use.

Tony's jaw tightened. This wasn't just a robbery. It was a powder keg ready to blow.

Tony stepped back from the window, his mind racing. He couldn't just barge in and risk escalating the situation. He took a deep breath, reaching inward for the dark energy that had become as much a part of him as his own heartbeat. It pulsed steadily, amplifying his senses and sharpening his focus.

"Roomie," he thought, "I need options."

"Observe their movements. Time is critical, but reckless action will increase casualties."

Tony watched closely as the two men darted between aisles, their attention divided. The woman at the counter became increasingly erratic, her trembling hand gripping the gun tighter with every second. The clerk tried to remain calm, but tears streaked her cheeks, and her breathing grew shallow.

Then it happened. The woman shouted something unintelligible, her voice cracking. The gun went off.

Tony moved before the echo of the shot had faded. The woman's gunfire grazed a shelf behind the clerk, shattering glass jars that sent shards flying. The teenage girl screamed, clutching her arm as she dropped to the ground.

In one fluid motion, Tony slipped through the door, his body a blur of speed and precision. The wiry man in the nearest aisle turned at the sound of his approach, but Tony was faster. He grabbed the man's arm mid-reach, twisting it with just enough force to disarm him. The gun clattered to the floor, and before the man could cry out, Tony delivered a controlled strike to his temple, rendering him unconscious.

The stocky man at the back of the store shouted in alarm, pulling his own weapon. Tony darted between shelves, using the aisles as cover. He reached the man in seconds, sweeping his legs out from under him. As the man hit the floor, Tony stomped down on his wrist, forcing him to drop the gun. A quick chop to the neck left him gasping and unconscious.

The woman by the counter spun, her eyes wild, the gun in her shaking hands now pointing at Tony. He raised his hands slowly, his voice calm but firm.

"Put it down," he said, taking a careful step forward. "It's over."

Her hand trembled violently, her breath coming in short gasps. Tony could see the desperation in her eyes—the kind of despair that made people dangerous.

"Don't come any closer!" she screamed, backing toward the door.

Tony didn't hesitate. With a burst of speed, he closed the gap between them, knocking the gun from her hand. She swung at him wildly, but her movements were erratic and uncoordinated. He caught her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back with just enough pressure to immobilize her without causing harm.

"It's done," he said quietly as she struggled briefly before slumping in defeat. He eased her to the ground, ensuring she couldn't grab for her weapon.

With the robbers subdued, Tony's attention snapped to the teenager behind the counter. She was curled up on the floor, clutching her arm, blood seeping through her fingers. His chest tightened as he knelt beside her.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I've got you."

She looked up at him, her face pale and streaked with tears. "It hurts," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Tony pressed his hands over the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. The sight of the blood made his stomach twist, but something deeper within him stirred—a pulsing awareness that he could do more. Dark energy hummed at the edges of his consciousness, calling to him.

"You can stabilize her," Roomie said, its voice calm but urgent. "Use the energy to seal the wound."

Tony hesitated. "What if I make it worse?"

"Trust your intent. Focus. You can save her."

He closed his eyes, letting the hum guide him. The dark energy within him flowed outward, threading through his hands like invisible tendrils. He felt it connect with the girl's wound, intertwining with the damaged tissue and blood vessels. The sensation was unlike anything he'd experienced—a mixture of warmth and power, as if he were reshaping the very fabric of her being.

The bleeding slowed, then stopped. The girl's breathing steadied, and her color began to return. Tony opened his eyes, staring in disbelief at the faint, silvery traces left where the wound had been. It wasn't fully healed, but it was enough to save her life.

The girl blinked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. "What... what did you do?"

Tony swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he pulled back. "I... I don't know," he said honestly. His chest felt tight, his emotions a swirling storm of relief, fear, and wonder. He looked at his hands, still tingling with the residue of dark energy, and exhaled shakily.

"This is only the beginning," Roomie murmured, its voice almost reverent. "You have touched the boundaries of creation and repair."

Tony shook his head, his thoughts spinning. "I wasn't trying to play God. I just... didn't want her to die."

"Your intent is what matters," Roomie said. "But you must learn control. This power can heal—or harm."

Tony glanced back at the girl, his breath still coming in uneven bursts as the adrenaline began to fade. She was sitting up now, her back pressed against the counter for support, one hand tentatively touching her arm where the wound had been. Her fingers moved over the faint silvery traces left by his intervention, her expression shifting from confusion to something that bordered on awe.

Her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto his, her lips trembling as she whispered, "Thank you."

Tony froze, his heart hammering in his chest. There was something in her gaze—a kind of reverence, almost disbelief—that caught him off guard. She looked at him not like a stranger who had helped her but as if he were something... more. Her eyes swept over him, filled with the kind of wonder reserved for miracles.

"You..." she began, her voice faltering. "You're... like a saint. God must have sent you."

Tony blinked, the weight of her words sinking into him. "No," he said softly, shaking his head. "I'm not a saint. I'm just... someone trying to help."

But the girl wasn't listening. Her fingers brushed over her arm again, her eyes widening as if she couldn't believe it was real. The pain was gone, the bleeding had stopped, and where there should have been a serious wound, there was only a faint, almost otherworldly scar—a mark that shimmered faintly in the dim store light.

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered again, "You saved me."

Tony knelt down beside her, his voice low but steady. "I just did what I could. That's all."

She shook her head, her hand clutching his as if to ground herself in the moment. "No... no one could have done this. I thought I was... I thought..." Her voice broke, and she let out a shaky breath, her tears spilling over. "I thought I was going to die."

Tony's chest tightened, his thoughts swirling. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her it was all going to be okay, but a part of him couldn't shake the enormity of what had just happened. The dark energy he'd used—he could still feel it humming faintly in his hands, a force far beyond his understanding. It had saved her, yes, but the sheer power of it unsettled him.

"You're safe now," he said softly, his voice faltering slightly. "Just... hang on. Help's on the way."

The girl nodded, her gaze never leaving him. "I'll never forget this. You... you're a miracle."

Tony's throat tightened, and he forced a small smile, standing as the sound of sirens grew louder in the distance. He glanced around the store, his eyes briefly landing on the subdued robbers still sprawled where he'd left them. The chaos of the moment had passed, but its echoes lingered, pressing down on him like a weight.

"She believes you to be divine," Roomie murmured in his mind, its voice calm but thoughtful. "Her perception of you may complicate matters."

Tony gritted his teeth, his thoughts racing. "I'm no saint, Roomie. I just... I couldn't let her die."

"Intent does not change perception," Roomie replied. "Be prepared for the consequences of your actions—good and bad."

Tony turned back to the girl, who was still watching him with a mix of gratitude and awe. She smiled weakly, her voice trembling as she said, "I don't even know your name."

He hesitated for a moment, his mind flashing with all the complications that might follow. Then he crouched down again, meeting her gaze.

"It's Tony," he said quietly. "And you're going to be okay, alright?"

She nodded, clutching her arm as if to hold onto the miracle she believed had saved her. "Thank you, Tony. Thank you."

The sirens screeched to a stop outside the store, and Tony stood as the first responders rushed in. He stepped back, his hands in his pockets as he watched the paramedics tend to her. The gratitude in her eyes lingered in his mind, heavy with a weight he wasn't sure he was ready to carry.

As he slipped out of the store unnoticed, his thoughts churned. He didn't feel like a saint or a hero. He was just someone trying to do the right thing. But as he walked into the night, the girl's words echoed in his mind.

A miracle.