1 Can see things

"Maxwell..."

"Maxwell..!"

"MAXWELL!!"

Maxwell jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to his consciousness.

He found himself in a classroom, surrounded by rows of desks and the curious gazes of his classmates. With a start, he realized that he must have fallen asleep during class.

Squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights, Maxwell pushed himself upright in his seat, trying to shake off the drowsiness that still clouded his mind.

He was a young man with striking features—a complexion as dark as midnight, short black hair that framed his face, and piercing dark green eyes that seemed to hold secrets untold. He wore the standard uniform of his school, a crisp white shirt and neatly pressed trousers, though they now appeared slightly rumpled from his impromptu nap.

"Er... sorry, teacher," Maxwell mumbled sheepishly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized all eyes were on him.

A ripple of laughter spread through the classroom, punctuated by the amused whispers of his classmates. Maxwell couldn't help but feel a pang of self-consciousness as he became the center of attention once again. It wasn't the first time he had drawn unwanted notice, but it still stung nonetheless.

The teacher shook his head in disappointment, his sigh heavy with exasperation. "Maxwell, this is the third time this week..."

Maxwell's cheeks burned with embarrassment as he lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of his teacher's disappointment settle upon him. He knew he had been struggling to stay focused lately, his mind often drifting to thoughts he couldn't quite grasp.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," Maxwell stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "It won't happen again."

But even as he made the promise, doubt gnawed at the back of his mind. There was something stirring within him, something restless and untamed that refused to be ignored. 

--

After a barrage of apologies to his teacher and enduring the teasing from his classmates, Maxwell found himself seated alone in the back of the classroom, his gaze fixed on the glowing screen of his phone. Despite the multitude of notifications and messages vying for his attention, he couldn't shake the lingering frustration of having dozed off in class yet again.

As he scrolled through his social media feed, his thumb swiping with practiced ease, a simmering anger bubbled beneath the surface. Why couldn't he seem to stay awake during lectures like everyone else? Why did he always feel like he was drifting through life, disconnected and adrift?

Frustration welled up inside him, mingling with a sense of self-doubt that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. He knew he had potential, knew he was capable of so much more than he let on. But something held him back, an invisible barrier that seemed insurmountable.

Maxwell's eyes flicked across the room, scanning the faces of his fellow students as they chatted and laughed amongst themselves. But then, something caught his attention—a faint, ethereal glow that seemed to emanate from within the classroom itself.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched in silent awe as spectral figures drifted through the room, their forms shimmering with a deep blue hue. They moved with a grace that belied their otherworldly nature, their presence both eerie and mesmerizing.

For Maxwell, the sight was nothing new. Ever since he was a child, he had possessed the unique ability to see what others could not—ghosts, spirits, and other supernatural entities that lingered in the shadows of the world.

But even so, the sight of so many spirits gathered in one place was a rare occurrence, and Maxwell couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity mingled with a sense of detachment. While others might have recoiled in fear or disbelief, Maxwell simply regarded the spectral visitors with a calm, almost indifferent expression.

It was a strange gift, this ability to perceive the unseen world that lay just beyond the veil of reality. And although Maxwell had long since grown accustomed to the presence of ghosts, he couldn't deny the sense of isolation that often accompanied his unique perception.

Maxwell's gaze met that of one of the spectral figures, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still between them. The ghost, its features translucent and its eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, turned to face Maxwell directly.

Without missing a beat, Maxwell raised a hand in a friendly wave, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The ghost's reaction was immediate—the ethereal figure jumped slightly, clearly taken aback by Maxwell's unexpected gesture.

A faint chuckle escaped Maxwell's lips as he watched the ghost's reaction, a sense of amusement mingling with the usual calm that surrounded him. It was a rare moment of connection, a brief encounter between the living and the dead that reminded Maxwell of the fragile boundary that separated their worlds.

For a moment longer, the ghost lingered, its gaze locked with Maxwell's as if trying to make sense of the unexpected interaction. And then, with a gentle flicker, it faded from view, disappearing into the ether like a whisper on the wind.

Maxwell's heart skipped a beat as he was pulled from his reverie by the sound of someone calling his name. Startled, he jumped in his seat, a faint flush rising to his cheeks as he turned to face the source of the interruption.

"Hey bro!" came the cheerful voice, followed by the familiar face of Omar, Maxwell's friend since kindergarten. With his wheatish skin, black short hair, and dark brown eyes, Omar exuded a sense of easygoing charm that never failed to put Maxwell at ease.

"Dude...! Can you warn first?!" Maxwell exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

Omar chuckled at Maxwell's reaction, unfazed by his friend's abrupt response. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to startle you."

Maxwell rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Whatever," he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation.

Omar's grin widened as he leaned back in his chair, regarding Maxwell with a knowing look. "Wow, what's with the daydream again?" he teased, his tone playful.

Maxwell sighed, running a hand through his short black hair. "Just thinking, I guess," he admitted, his gaze drifting back to the window where he had spotted the ghostly figures earlier.

Omar raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. "About what?"

Maxwell hesitated for a moment, unsure how to articulate the swirling thoughts and emotions that churned within him. "I don't know... It's just... something feels off lately," he confessed, his voice quiet.

Omar's brow furrowed with concern as he regarded his friend. "Is everything okay?"

Maxwell offered a reassuring smile, though the uncertainty lingered in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he replied, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.

Omar studied Maxwell for a moment longer, his expression thoughtful. "Well, whatever it is, you know I've got your back, right?" he said, his voice gentle but firm.

Maxwell nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over him at his friend's words. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"Summer's just around the corner! Exams are history!" Omar exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he leaned forward in his seat.

Maxwell couldn't help but smile at his friend's enthusiasm. "Yeah... So, what are you planning to do this summer?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Omar's expression faltered for a moment, his excitement giving way to a hint of uncertainty. "Er... well..."

Maxwell waited patiently for Omar to gather his thoughts, sensing that there was something more to his friend's hesitation.

"I... I'll probably go back to India to see my parents," Omar finally admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "It's... it's been a while since I last saw them, and with the summer vacation being four months long..."

Maxwell's eyes widened in surprise at Omar's revelation. "Wait, you mean all the special plans we made for the summer nights are canceled?" he exclaimed, disbelief coloring his voice.

Omar sighed, a pained expression crossing his features. "Yeah... I'm really sorry, man. I didn't want it to end up like this."

Maxwell shook his head, a sense of disappointment mingling with understanding. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said, offering Omar a reassuring smile. "Family comes first, right?"

Omar's expression brightened at Maxwell's words, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thanks, Max. I really appreciate your understanding."

With a shared nod, the two friends fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of their unspoken bond bridging the gap between them. Though their summer plans may have been derailed, Maxwell knew that their friendship would endure, regardless of the distance that separated them. And as they looked ahead to the adventures that awaited them, Maxwell couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the special bond he shared with his friend

--

As the night wrapped Tokyo in its embrace, Maxwell strolled down the bustling streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the vibrant city. Japan had always been a dream destination for him, despite his roots in South Africa. His love for manga and anime fueled his desire to visit the birthplace of his favorite art form.

With each step, Maxwell felt the weight of his aspirations mingled with the excitement of being in a place he had only ever seen in his imagination. His dream? To become a mangaka himself, crafting stories that would captivate readers worldwide.

But amidst the bright lights and bustling crowds, there was a lingering sense of longing. Maxwell had grown up without knowing his biological parents, raised alongside his sister by foster parents in South Africa. While he cherished the family he had, a part of him yearned to uncover the mystery of his origins.

His sister, now living and working in Australia, had always been his rock. But even her support couldn't quell the curiosity that tugged at Maxwell's heartstrings. 

As Maxwell ambled through the lively streets of Tokyo, his eyes caught glimpses of something unexpected amidst the throngs of people—ghosts. Transparent figures drifted through the crowds, some gazing longingly into shop windows, while others simply lingered in the midst of the bustling city.

Maxwell's heart skipped a beat as he recognized these spectral figures for what they were—lost souls, lingering between the realms of the living and the dead. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to their presence, his unique ability to see ghosts granting him insight into the hidden world that coexisted alongside his own.

With a heavy heart, Maxwell understood that each of these apparitions had a story to tell, a life that had been cut short before its time. Sometimes, he would approach them, offering a sympathetic ear and a helping hand in the hopes of easing their restless spirits.

"Hey there," Maxwell would say softly, his voice gentle as he addressed the ghost before him. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Some ghosts would respond with gratitude, eager to share their tales of woe and longing. Others would shy away.

As Maxwell walked through the bustling streets, engaging with the spectral figures that only he could see, he couldn't help but notice the curious glances of passersby. Some stared openly, their brows furrowed in confusion or disbelief, while others whispered amongst themselves, casting wary glances in his direction.

Maxwell was well aware of the strange looks he received whenever he interacted with the ghosts that roamed the city. To the ordinary observer, it must have seemed like he was talking to thin air, or worse, that he was suffering from some sort of mental illness.

But Maxwell paid them little mind, accustomed to the judgmental stares and whispered rumors that followed him wherever he went. He had long since accepted that his ability to see ghosts set him apart from the rest of society, marking him as different in ways that few could understand.

--

Maxwell found himself at the familiar spot of the lonely boulevard, the streetlights casting long shadows on the deserted pavement. Lost in his thoughts, he walked with a determined stride, his footsteps echoing in the quiet night.

Absorbed in the pages of a novel on his phone, Maxwell barely registered the world around him until a soft sound caught his attention—a gentle meow that seemed to pierce through the silence like a beacon in the darkness.

Pausing mid-step, Maxwell glanced down to find a tabby cat nestled amongst the shadows, its eyes closed in peaceful repose. Recognition sparked in Maxwell's mind as he realized that this was the same cat that had been trailing him for some time now.

"Hey, it's you..." Maxwell murmured softly, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice as he crouched down to the cat's level. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that washed over him whenever he encountered the feline.

This cat had been a constant presence in Maxwell's life, a silent companion that seemed to follow him wherever he went. At times, he had entertained the thought of adopting the stray, offering it a home and a sense of belonging. But no matter how hard he tried, the cat always seemed to slip through his fingers, disappearing into the night without a trace.

With a sigh, Maxwell reached out a hand, hesitating for a moment before gently stroking the cat's fur. Whether by chance or fate, the bond between them was undeniable—a silent connection that transcended words and bound them together in the quiet solitude of the night.

As Maxwell stroked the tabby cat's fur, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him as the feline responded with a gentle purr, its tail swishing against his arm in appreciation.

"Hey, look, I brought you some cat food," Maxwell said, reaching into his bag and producing a can of food. The cat's eyes lit up with excitement as it jumped eagerly towards the offering, its hunger apparent in the way it devoured the meal with gusto.

Maxwell watched with a smile as the cat ate, marveling at the simple joy that radiated from the animal. But as he observed the cat more closely, he couldn't help but notice something unusual—its eyes remained closed, even as it feasted on the food before it.

A sense of surprise washed over Maxwell as he realized that the cat was not blind, as he had initially assumed. After all, its movements were too graceful, its reactions too swift for a creature deprived of sight. And yet, there it sat, its eyes closed in serene contentment as it savored the meal Maxwell had provided.

Curiosity piqued, Maxwell couldn't help but wonder about the significance of the cat's closed eyes. Was it merely a quirk of nature, or was there a deeper meaning hidden within its silent gaze?

"ROOOOAAAAAAAAARRR!"

Maxwell's heart pounded in his chest as he heard the menacing growls echoing behind him. With a sense of dread, he turned to face the source of the sound, his eyes widening in horror as he beheld the grotesque monsters that loomed before him.

The creatures were unlike anything Maxwell had ever seen—dark-skinned and twisted, with demonic horns protruding from their misshapen forms. Fear coursed through his veins as he realized the danger he was in, the primal instinct to flee overwhelming his senses.

But even amidst the chaos and terror, Maxwell's gaze fell upon the tabby cat, who remained strangely calm in the face of the approaching threat. There was a sense of serenity in the feline's demeanor, a quiet assurance that seemed to radiate from its very being.

Drawing strength from the cat's unwavering presence, Maxwell made a split-second decision. With a swift motion, he scooped up the cat in his arms, cradling it close as he turned and fled from the nightmarish scene unfolding before him.

As he ran, the sounds of pursuit echoed in his ears, the creatures' growls growing louder with each passing moment. But Maxwell refused to give in to despair, his determination fueling his every step as he raced through the darkened streets, the tabby cat held tightly against his chest.

Maxwell's eyes widened in shock as the tabby cat, now perched on his arm, began to speak in a voice that sent chills down his spine.

"It seems like you're in huge trouble, eh?" the cat remarked casually, as if discussing the weather.

Before Maxwell could even process the bizarre situation, a deafening roar shattered the night air, causing him to whirl around in alarm. The monstrous creature charged towards them with terrifying speed, its dark form a blur against the dimly lit street.

With a surge of panic, Maxwell stumbled backward, his mind reeling from the surreal turn of events. But before he could react, the tabby cat leaped into action, launching itself from Maxwell's arm with a ferocity that belied its small size.

With a swift motion, the cat lashed out with its tail, striking the monster with surprising force. The creature staggered back, its monstrous form faltering under the unexpected attack.

Maxwell watched in stunned disbelief as the cat stood its ground, its eyes gleaming with determination as it faced down the creature that had threatened them. It was a sight beyond comprehension, a surreal moment that defied all logic and reason.

"What the..." Maxwell muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to make sense of the chaos unfolding before him.

But even as he grappled with the shock of the moment, a sense of awe filled him at the sight of the tabby cat's bravery.

Maxwell's heart raced as the cat approached him, its eyes blazing with intensity as it held out a black bracelet. "Wear this," it commanded, its voice firm and unwavering.

As Maxwell reluctantly complied with the cat's command and slipped the black bracelet onto his wrist, he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins, his heart pounding with anticipation. Before he could even process what was happening, a blinding light enveloped him, illuminating the night with its dazzling brilliance.

In the blink of an eye, Maxwell underwent a transformation unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His body contorted and shifted, muscles bulging and bones elongating as he grew in size and stature. Long black locks cascaded down his back, framing his newly formed features with an air of ominous mystique.

His skin took on a deep shade of black, adorned with intricate white lines that traced along his muscular frame like ethereal tattoos. With each breath, his chest rose and fell with a powerful rhythm, his body honed and sculpted into a form of unparalleled strength and prowess.

Gone was the ordinary boy, replaced now by a towering figure of imposing presence—a 9-foot monster with a visage shrouded in darkness. His head, obscured by a veil of shadows, bore no eyes, only a jagged white mouth that curled into a menacing grin.

But it was not just his physical appearance that had changed. Along with his transformation came a surge of primal instincts and untapped power, coursing through his veins like a raging inferno. Maxwell was no longer just a mere mortal—he was something more, something otherworldly and unstoppable.

With a deep, guttural roar rumbling from the depths of his chest, Maxwell lunged forward, his massive form moving with a primal grace as he closed the distance between himself and the grotesque monsters. The air crackled with tension as the creatures snarled and hissed, their dark intentions clear in their malevolent gaze.

Without hesitation, Maxwell unleashed a flurry of devastating blows, his fists like battering rams as they collided with the monsters' twisted forms. Bones shattered and flesh tore as the force of his attacks sent the creatures reeling, their agonized cries filling the night air.

Blood sprayed in all directions, painting the pavement with a sickening splatter of crimson as Maxwell pressed his relentless assault. With each strike, he felt the primal thrill of battle coursing through his veins, his senses heightened and his instincts honed to a razor-sharp edge.

The monsters fought back with savage ferocity, their claws slashing through the air in a frenzied frenzy. But Maxwell was undeterred, his movements fluid and precise as he danced through their onslaught, his monstrous form a whirlwind of destruction and chaos.

The battle raged on with brutal intensity, each blow fueled by a primal instinct for survival. Limbs were torn asunder, organs spilled forth from gaping wounds, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.

But amidst the carnage and chaos, Maxwell remained unyielding, his resolve unwavering as he fought tooth and nail to overcome the monstrous threat that loomed before him. With each passing moment, he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion, drawing upon reserves of strength he never knew he possessed.

And as the last of the monsters fell to the ground, defeated and broken, Maxwell stood victorious amidst the wreckage of battle, his chest heaving with exertion as he surveyed the scene before him. The night was silent once more, save for the echoes of his own ragged breaths—a testament to the fierce determination and unwavering resolve that had carried him through the darkest of nights.

With a triumphant roar reverberating through the night, Maxwell raised his bloodied hands in a primal display of victory. Strange, otherworldly blood dripped from his fingertips, a grim reminder of the ferocity with which he had vanquished his foes. As he surveyed the aftermath of the battle, a sense of primal satisfaction washed over him, his chest swelling with pride at his hard-fought triumph.

Across the scene of carnage, the tabby cat watched with a knowing smirk, its eyes gleaming with a mysterious intelligence. "Yep... this is the one," it remarked cryptically, its voice laced with a hint of satisfaction.