The metal door shut behind him with a pneumatic hiss. Outside, the air smelled of iron and smoke. The streets were quiet now, but the damage remained—cracked pavement, claw marks scorched into walls, blackened lampposts flickering weakly overhead.
Kael stepped onto the road.
He didn't rush. He walked.
Each step firm. Controlled.
His coat brushed lightly against his legs, the new one—dark, reinforced, taken from the base's emergency cache. The weight of it meant nothing. Just protection. Just utility.
> "No confirmed location for Aria."
"But retreat pattern suggests central convergence."
"Disloyal agents: likely regrouped at hidden site."
"Standard logic: surveillance, interrogation, leverage."
He turned a corner, boots crunching over broken glass. The silence was nearly total now. No civilians. No patrols.
His mind replayed what he'd seen—frame by frame—the footage of Aria being taken, the way the disloyal agents moved. Precise. Coordinated. They weren't panicked. They had expected this.
> "They knew about me."
"They knew I would come."
Kael stopped beside a collapsed building, placing a hand on a shattered support beam as he ducked underneath a gap and continued through the alley.
> "They will use Aria as bait."
"Logical. Efficient."
"Expected."
His fingers curled slightly.
> "Aria…"
"No emotional tether detected. But she remains consistent."
"Attempted to connect. Repeatedly."
"Deserves acknowledgment."
He walked past a scorched vehicle. A child's toy rested untouched beside it—an old stuffed animal, singed on one side but intact.
Kael looked down at it.
> "Civilian casualties unnecessary."
"Devourers lack selective targeting."
"Their leader claimed superiority. Control."
"Control over chaos is contradiction."
He thought of the Devourer leader. The calm voice. The vague implications.
> "He implied history."
"He implied memory."
"He spoke as if familiar… and yet I did not react."
Kael pressed his hand against a rusted access panel and forced the alley gate open. The hinges creaked. No traps. No resistance.
He emerged into a wide street. On the opposite side, an abandoned café flickered with backup power. Neon signs flashed behind cracked glass. Reflections shimmered off the puddles at his feet.
He paused.
> "Aria. Loyal agents."
"All showed patterns of trust."
"None required it in return."
He blinked slowly, and walked forward.
> "Trust is irrelevant to purpose."
"But behavior aligns with safety."
"Preserving them… aligns with forward function."
His thoughts shifted again—back to the woman he saved during the first incident. Her fear. Her retreat.
> "No gratitude. Only fear."
"Visuals of power provoke rejection."
Kael flexed one hand as he moved. The black marks on his skin pulsed faintly again. Faint. Controlled.
> "Power is misunderstood."
"Yet essential."
A distant sound caught his attention—a flurry of footsteps, soft and quick, down a far alley. Too light for agents. Not Devourers. Civilians, possibly.
He didn't follow.
> "Detour unnecessary."
"Primary objective: recovery of Aria."
The road ahead split into two.
One path led deeper into the city's ruins. A known ambush route.
The other curved toward the industrial edge. Less covered. Risk of exposure.
Kael stepped toward the more dangerous one.
> "They expect me to be cautious."
"I will not be."
He walked into the open.
Each footstep echoed off buildings with cracked glass windows.
And all the while, his thoughts stayed locked into motion—an endless string of logic, deduction, and certainty.
> "This world lacks direction."
"They operate on fear, on instinct."
"I do not."
"I am clarity where there is confusion."
"I am motion where others freeze."
A storm rolled quietly in the distance.
Kael never looked up.
He just kept walking forward—without doubt, without emotion.
Only purpose.