Chapter 5 (Revised)
The door's hiss felt like the sound of a trap being sprung. I was free of the cuff, but now I was tethered by something far more potent: her interest. Koshva didn't move, just slumped back into his chair, the fight completely drained from him. He looked like a deflated balloon.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked, swinging my legs off the bed. "Do I wait for her to come back, or is there a 'Check-out' procedure I should be aware of?"
He didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on the wall opposite, his one good eye clouded over. He was a man running numbers in his head, and the sum was ruin.
'He's not just scared of her, he's scared of the paperwork this will generate. I've seen his type before. Talented enough to be a topshot, but prefers the quiet life of mediocrity to the mountain of reports that come with every promotion.'
I stood up and tested my body. No pain. No aches. Just a perfect, humming machine that felt less like mine with every passing second. It was a strange, disquieting freedom. I walked over to the door she'd exited. It was smooth, seamless, with no visible handle or keypad. Just a blank, white surface.
[I am not a prisoner,] I thought. [I am an anomaly. And anomalies have leverage.]
The wall beside the door flickered. A panel dissolved, revealing a small alcove. Inside was my clothing—or what passed for it. The simple grey tunic and pants were gone. In their place was a sleek, black uniform. It felt like a second skin, flexible, light, and cool. It had no pockets, no adornments, just a single, silver insignia on the left breast: a stylized, closed eye.
"Subtle," I muttered, pulling it on.
As I fastened the last clasp at the collar, a chime echoed in the room, followed by a smooth, synthetic voice, different from the one in my head.
[Ment Koshva. Your scheduled evaluation has been updated. Subject: Anomaly 734. Report to Observation Deck Gamma immediately. Failure to comply will be logged as dereliction of duty.]
Koshva flinched as if he'd been struck. He finally looked at me, his expression a complex cocktail of resentment, fear, and grudging respect.
"Great. Another evaluation," he grumbled, rubbing his temples. "Do you have any idea how many forms I have to fill out for a high-intensity anomaly interaction? The energy signature reports, the psychological impact assessments... I could have retired by the time I'm done with the paperwork for this morning."
"I'm sure you'll manage," I replied, my voice even. "You seem like a man who values a peaceful life over a promotion."
He glared at me. "Don't patronize me, kid. I could have been a Senior Investigator in the Constabulary or an Enforcer for the Syndicates. I chose this. I chose the paperwork over the politics. But this... this is the kind of mess that gets even a guy like me reassigned to a moon station."
He stood, his movements stiff and deliberate. "Valentina... she's a prodigy. She got her Law at fifteen. Fifteen. They don't just let anomalies walk around with people like her. They put them in labs. They dissect them. The fact that she's just taking you to an Observation Deck means she thinks you're either a key to something bigger, or a bomb she needs to watch explode personally."
He stopped in front of me, his face inches from mine. "I've seen what happens to bombs. You don't walk away from the blast."
It was the most honest he'd been. A clear, undisguised warning.
'Good. A man who hates trouble is the easiest to manipulate.' i thought to myself
"Good," I said, meeting his gaze. "A little clarity is all I needed, and don't worry this bomb ain't blowing up without a fuse, just hope there won't be one."
I didn't give him a chance to reply. I walked to the door, placed my hand on the smooth surface where I thought a handle should be, and pushed. It slid open silently. Beyond it wasn't a hallway, but a platform. A single, monorail car sat waiting, its interior bathed in the same soft, white light. Valentina stood inside, arms crossed, her grey eyes fixed on me.
She didn't look surprised. It was as if she'd known the exact moment I'd decide to walk out.
I stepped inside. The car's door sealed behind me with a soft thump, leaving Koshva standing alone in his white-walled prison. As the car began to move with impossible smoothness, Valentina finally spoke.
"You're calmer than most," she noted, her voice flat. "Most Transcendents who wake up in a hospital bed either try to fight their way out or have a complete psychological collapse."
"I've already had my psychological collapse of the century, thank you very much. This is just the aftermath."
"I've had a lot of practice waking up in bad situations," I said, looking out the transparent wall of the lift. We were rising, ascending through a tower of impossibly clean architecture. Below, the city I'd glimpsed before spread out like a circuit board—glowing lines of light crisscrossing dark canyons, silent drones moving like blood cells through arteries.
"Let's skip the pleasantries," she said, her reflection appearing faintly on the glass. "I don't care about your past life. I don't care if you were a king or a janitor. I care about two things: why your Rebirth Protocol failed, and how you even if it is only class one acquired a Class 1 divinity skill on your first day without a Law to anchor it."
" I was a king for your information strongest one in history" I said.
"Dominion's Gaze that's what the voice said"
Her reflection's eyes widened, just for a fraction of a second. She was genuinely surprised. I'd scored a point.
"That's one rare skill ," she said, her voice dropping lower. "A foundational divine authority. It's not something you just get, so It's something you create. So I'll ask you one more time. What are you, Dokja Choi?"
The car glided to a stop. The door opened onto a wide, circular platform that overlooked the entire city, suspended in the open air. The wind tugged at my new uniform.
I looked at the sprawling, perfect, silent metropolis below. At the millions of tiny, insignificant lights that were lives being lived. And for the first time since I'd woken up, I felt something other than confusion or cynicism. I felt a pang of recognition. I knew this city. Not its name or its streets, but its soul. It was the final, hollow prize at the end of a long, brutal war.
I turned to face her, the wind whipping my hair.
"Before I answer that," I said, my voice cutting through the wind, "you tell me something. What happens when a god dies? and second any good food joints around here? Haven't had a full meal since i was dropped here"