CHAPTER 173: DEDUCTION

"...Since you take full responsibility for him," the old woman’s voice crackled through the line, low and crisp, "there will be consequences, Elius."

Her words hung in the air like frost. Elius didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He stood still beneath the metal latticework of the sky dome garden, the filtered sunlight washing his pale skin in a cold golden hue, and he listened without resistance.

"You understand what this means?" she continued. Her voice was neither cruel nor soft—it was simply heavy, like the voice of someone long burdened with hard truths. "You’re not a detached party. You’re not a bystander who stepped in out of curiosity. You interfered in official classification protocols. You intervened in a high-risk individual’s trajectory. You made that choice. And now, you’re binding yourself to the outcome."

A faint hum buzzed on the line. She was reading from something now, probably his updated profile or the disciplinary review, perhaps even both.

"Your official superhero ranking will be temporarily suspended and downgraded," she said. "By six ranks."

Elius closed his eyes.

"You are currently listed as Rank F, fresh entrant with evaluated Class A potential. That is being frozen. You will be listed as Class Z—zero—and be placed at observation status until further notice. You’re still a student. But officially, you’re now a ward-handling initiator, subject to all rehabilitation clauses and oversight audits of probationary conduct."

She paused again, then exhaled slowly.

"And that’s just the start."

Elius nodded once, silently. He didn’t speak, didn’t interrupt. He knew she wasn’t finished.

"You asked to protect Keith," she said. "You said he was influenced. But influence does not erase what has already been done. No amount of forgiveness makes fire less hot. The system can’t ignore the past just because the present is promising. If you truly want him to walk the path of a hero, then you must walk it with him, step for step—through every stain, every shadow, every sharp edge of his history."

Elius stood straighter.

She began reading aloud the record.

"Fourteen separate break-ins across government and corporate research facilities. Seven attempted retrievals of forbidden bio-enhancers—classified. One of which exploded. Forty-two million credits in infrastructure damage. Six stolen A-class equipment modules. Eighteen injuries, nine of them severe, though all survived. Seventy-one counts of property-level sabotage across three different cities."

Elius didn’t flinch.

The woman didn’t stop.

"Two hostage incidents. Temporary. No deaths. But trauma was involved. One psychic impression left a boy catatonic for three weeks. Keith’s energy signature was found on the memory loop."

There was a pause again. It was long, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

"Two reported self-harm events. One memory scrub attempt on himself. Several behavioral regressions traced back to Esper overload."

Elius clenched his jaw but said nothing.

The woman continued. "He wasn’t just manipulated. He was weaponized. And when weapons are used long enough, they don’t just break—they scar. The people above me, they’re skeptical. They think you’re too naive. Or too soft. Or worse—too close."

"Maybe I am," Elius murmured.

"That’s not an argument," she said flatly. "It’s a confession."

He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the sterile sweetness of the garden’s artificial air, and exhaled slowly.

"I didn’t ask for a lighter punishment," he said quietly. "I knew this was coming."

"Good," the woman replied. "Because it’s not over."

She shifted her tone, her voice now taking on the clinical rhythm of procedure.

"In order for Keith to even begin the process of reclassification into the Superhero Program, you will act as his sponsor, handler, supervisor, and evaluator. His successes are yours. His failures—yours, too. Should he backslide, should any other incident arise from his actions, it will be your license that burns. Your rank that falls. Your name that gets struck."

Elius said, "Understood."

"You will file daily reports. Submit him to psychic scans weekly. Bring him in for status checks. He’ll wear a monitoring patch for at least six months. Every battle he joins will require a triple-signatory approval. And if there’s even one slip—one moment where he loses control—"

"I’ll stop him," Elius said again. "No matter what."

The silence that followed was deeper than before. It felt like the moment right before a final page turns.

"You’re still young," the woman said at last. "You don’t know what you’re giving up. You don’t understand the weight you’re inviting onto your back. Most students try to climb. You’ve just chosen to fall."

"I’m not falling," Elius said softly. "I’m just walking back down to where I should’ve started."

Another long breath from the woman.

"...Then start over you shall."

He looked ahead through the translucent dome at the artificial horizon stretching far beyond the campus’ central plaza. Students milled about in the distance like flecks of motion, small and distant, unaware of the stormy sky beginning to build overhead.

"Your previous rank, your access clearance, your high-ranking class assignments—revoked," the woman said. "Effective immediately. You’re now assigned to Foundation Class One. The beginners. The rookies. Those who barely passed orientation."

Elius didn’t blink. His lips barely parted.

"When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning," she said. "Your name will appear on the updated roster. You will wear the white band of the unranked. You will take lectures from instructors who assume you know nothing. You will take orders from seniors you once outranked. And your classmates will treat you as one of them—because you are. From now on."

The finality of it rang through the line like a bell.

Then she asked, "Do you accept this, Elius?"

His eyes remained on the horizon. On the light.

"I do," he said.

And with that, the call ended.

The moment the call with the old woman ended, the low hum of silence enveloped Elius. He remained standing where he was, motionless, phone still warm in his hand. The garden around him, with its faux-organic vines and synthetic petals, continued to sway gently in the artificial breeze, indifferent to the weight of responsibility that had just been shackled to his soul. And in that moment of stillness, a second call came through.

He didn’t need to look at the ID. The caller’s energy pressed into the air before the ringtone even finished its first cycle. It was a radiant, suffocating presence. Commanding. Familiar.

He accepted the call.

The voice on the other end came in immediately—sharp, impatient, and threaded with suspicion.

"Why?" Radiant Man said. No pleasantries. No warmth. "Why did your rank drop? Who authorized this? Was it punishment? Or something worse?"

Elius tilted his head back, eyes half-closed as the dome’s filtered sunlight glared down on his lashes. He let the accusation hang for a breath before answering, tone deceptively calm.

"It wasn’t punishment," he said.

"Then what? You were doing well. You had momentum. Respect. Headlines. Even the deans acknowledged you. Then suddenly—this? Rank Z? You’re walking backwards while the whole academy watches you."

"I made a decision," Elius said.

There was a pause on the other side of the call.

Radiant Man’s voice came back, slower this time. "You took a fall for Keith."

Elius’s silence was confirmation enough.

Radiant Man’s voice darkened, a growl sitting just beneath the surface. "You barely even know him. He’s not worth your record. Not worth your rise. You threw away everything."

Elius clicked his tongue softly and turned toward the rows of metallic lotus flowers blooming under UV light. "He was interesting," he said, almost amused. "Felt like a wasted investment, if we’re being honest."

"...Investment?" Radiant Man’s voice tensed. "He’s a villain."

"Was," Elius corrected, smirking faintly. "A pawn. A puppet. Broken down and steered by some mind Esper who probably smelled weakness and took a bite."

"That doesn’t make him your problem."

"Doesn’t it?" Elius said. "He had strength. Real strength. The kind that doesn’t just vanish after defeat. When I looked at him, I didn’t see a failure—I saw someone who could stand beside me, or even against me. Someone who could rival me. Eventually."

There was a quiet, dangerous silence on the line.

"So I made a judgment call," Elius continued, casually walking down the path of quartz-like tiles that shimmered underfoot. "I chose to rebuild him. Clean the wreckage and turn it into a weapon. A sword, forged under my hands. My way. Better than seeing that potential rot inside a villain cell or spiral into some mad descent."

Radiant Man’s voice returned, low and tight. "So you’re grooming him for your own ends?"

"Using him," Elius said simply. "He’s strong, and I don’t like wasting strength. I’ll keep him under control. And when the time comes, if he becomes useful... then I’ll let him shine. If he doesn’t, then I cut him off."

There was an ugly silence on the line now. Elius could hear the restraint behind it. The effort Radiant Man was making not to snap.

"You’re too much like me," Radiant Man finally muttered.

Elius chuckled softly. "A compliment, I think."

"It wasn’t."

"I’m aware."

Radiant Man was breathing heavier now, words edged with something older than anger—something that felt like warning, or maybe dread. "You don’t know what you’re messing with. You don’t know his past."

"I don’t need to know it," Elius replied. "The future’s more useful to me than the past."

"And if the past comes back?"

"Then I’ll kill it."

That quiet threat in Elius’s voice rang too clearly.

Radiant Man didn’t reply immediately. His silence was loud, filled with thoughts he wasn’t ready to put into words. Elius, unfazed, stepped beneath the shadow of a winding archway, hands in his pockets. He tilted his head slightly, as if remembering something amusing.

"Oh, and you should’ve seen him," he added suddenly, voice lighter. "Keith. His hair turned gold."

Radiant Man’s silence stiffened.

Elius grinned a little, and continued, as if recalling a strange twist of fate. "From black to gold. It was almost funny. The moment I saw him like that, I thought, ’Huh, he’s starting to look a bit like me.’ Not quite there, but... the resemblance is creeping in."

He laughed, a soft, almost theatrical sound.

"Maybe I’ve been rubbing off on him already."

There was a tremor on the other end of the line.

"...What did you say?" Radiant Man’s voice cracked slightly, trembling in a way Elius had never heard before. Not even once.

"You heard me," Elius said, his smirk widening. "His hair turned gold."