CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER 30: COLD

A flashing blue blur streaked across the empty stretch of road before skidding to a stop in the middle of the abandoned district.

The air still vibrated from the sudden deceleration, and fragments of dust drifted down from cracked building facades.

Razel landed heavily, the impact sending a dull tremor through the asphalt.

Hairline fractures spread from beneath his boots as he straightened, his eyes narrowing while scanning the empty streets.

The silence was almost unnatural, no traffic, no voices, just the faint hum of a flickering streetlight overhead.

"I don’t sense anything," he muttered, turning his head slowly from one deserted alley to the next.

[Sir, it was here,] his AI’s voice came through the internal comms, calm but firm. [The energy signature matches perfectly. I’ve marked the location so we can sweep for residual traces—]

"Don’t feed me coordinates," Razel snapped, cutting the AI off mid-sentence. "I didn’t come here to run a clean-up sweep." His hands curled into fists, a faint pulse of energy flickering around them. "I wanted the source right in front of me. I wanted to tear it apart myself."

[With respect, sir, the signature suggests the entity didn’t stay long. The system’s data shows it—]

"I don’t care what your data shows." Razel’s voice hardened, his gaze locked on a faint scorch mark ahead of him on the cracked pavement. "Something powerful passed through this place, and I’m not leaving with just scraps."

He crouched, running his fingers over the mark, feeling the faint trace of residual energy still clinging to it. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to ignite his frustration.

[There’s no other life sign in a three-block radius,] the AI continued. [The brute that attacked here earlier is dead, but—]

"Grayson has no heroes... I’ll make sure that rat comes out of hiding," Razel muttered, his voice low and edged with menace.

Without another word, his body surged forward in a streak of blue light, vanishing down the cracked street in a single bound.

The brief rush of displaced air rattled loose papers and sent them swirling into the night.

The city returned to silence, the faint hum of broken streetlamps and the distant drip of water in the alleys the only sounds left behind.

Even the shadows seemed to stretch a little farther, as if retreating from the path he had taken.

Back in Jace’s apartment, the lights were dim and the only sound came from the occasional creak of the building settling.

Eva had already taken the bed, and the alien girl, still without a proper name, was curled up on the couch. That left Jace without anywhere to sleep.

"We should probably either give her a name or ask her hers," he muttered.

[Definitely give her one. Her real name is complicated in her language.]

Jace sat on the kitchen counter, the dim light above him flickering every now and then.

The broken laptop lay across his lap, its casing removed and wires exposed. It was his old laptop, the same one he’d given up on months ago.

Back then, he didn’t have the money, tools, or know-how to fix it.

Now, with Zin’s alien-fed knowledge rattling around in his head, he figured he might have a shot.

Could he fix it? Maybe. He was halfway through prying loose a corroded connector when his phone dinged.

He set the screwdriver down and reached for it, eyes narrowing at the notification. A bank deposit.

He blinked twice, almost thinking he’d read it wrong. The balance had jumped by $3,482.76—money that definitely hadn’t been there an hour ago.

For a moment, he just stared. Then it clicked. The conversation with Zin before the whole monster fiasco.

[Residual loop intercept active,] Zin’s voice hummed in the back of his mind. [That’s only the first cycle. Expect more.]

Jace let out a slow whistle. "Guess crumbs add up fast."

He couldn’t help but stare again. "This is insane." After a moment, he forced himself to lean back against the counter, exhaling slowly. "Alright... relax."

[At the current interception rate,] Zin’s voice chimed in smoothly, [you’ll clear at least $15,000 by the end of the day. Give it a week, and you’re looking at $90,000 to $110,000—assuming no interference.]

Jace’s eyes flicked to the broken laptop in his lap, the exposed circuits catching the light. "That’s... more than I’ve ever seen in my account."

[And more than enough to start building what you’ve been daydreaming about,] Zin continued. [Advanced tech. A base of operations. Prototype suits. Drones. Tools. If you want to be the kind of man who rivals the wealthy tech-backed heroes, this is the seed money.]

Jace smirked faintly. "Guess the first step is fixing this thing."

[Or you could invest in better equipment immediately. I recommend both.]

"How about this," Jace said, leaning back on the counter, screwdriver still in hand. "You handle all that money stuff, and I’ll focus on making tech... or just doing the physical work."

[Sure,] Zin replied without hesitation.

Jace went quiet, his eyes drifting toward the dim glow from the apartment window.

The city lights outside blurred slightly as his focus slipped inward. This was going to be a hell of a journey, one he couldn’t have imagined a month ago.

His mind was a constant storm since returning from the fight.

It wasn’t just the adrenaline; it was the sheer volume of ideas Zin had shoved into his head. Blueprints, schematics, theories. It was like trying to drink from a fire hydrant that never shut off. He wanted to build everything, test everything, become something more.

But beneath that flood of ambition, a different thought had been gnawing at him since that night. A darker thought.

He hadn’t felt guilty. Not when the fight ended. Not when he’d taken a life. Not even in the hours afterward.

There was no weight in his chest, no sickness in his gut, just a blank space where guilt was supposed to live.

And now, that absence was starting to bother him. He was beginning to feel guilty for not feeling guilty.

[You’re still thinking about it,] Zin’s voice cut in, breaking through his haze.

Jace didn’t answer right away.

[You shouldn’t waste the processing power,] Zin continued. [Killing is just a transaction. You removed a threat, one that would have removed you if you hesitated. The universe doesn’t care about morality; it cares about cause and effect. The living take from the dead. The strong shape the future, and the weak are shaped by it.]

Jace’s eyes lowered to the half-fixed laptop, his fingers still idly turning the screwdriver.

[Whether you feel guilt or not changes nothing,] Zin went on. [The one you killed is gone. The resources and experience you gained will shape what happens next. That is efficiency, not evil. Regret is a luxury for people who can afford to lose.]

Jace went silent, his mind still replaying Zin’s cold, calculated words. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the low buzz from the half-functional laptop fan.

The silence broke when he heard a door open.

He glanced up toward the hallway, the faint creak of hinges carrying into the kitchen.