I kindly request you to include my new book, "Ashes of God and Devil," in your libraries.
*****
{Chapter: 190 - Madly Collecting Power People}
Aiden inhaled deeply, drawing in the cold night air through slightly parted lips. His chest rose and fell, steady and calculated—like a machine priming itself for war. Then, without warning, his entire demeanor shifted. The subtle change in expression rippled through the atmosphere like a coming storm. His gaze, which was already intense, now radiated an overwhelming sense of purpose.
There was no hesitation left.
No more doubts.
Hiro's power would be his.
Aiden didn't believe in fate—but if fate existed, then he would conquer it, bend it, devour it whole. His mind echoed with one clear and unwavering thought:
"I am Aiden Graves… I destroy all that stands in my way. I conquer every obstacle. Because I am the King!"
He raised the wine glass and downed the last remnants in a single gulp, the scarlet liquid slipping down his throat like blood from a fresh kill. With a final glance at the glittering city lights, he placed the glass on the side table and turned, walking toward Rene with a newfound gravity in each step.
The moment he approached, Rene—who had seen many dangerous men in his life—felt his body instinctively stiffen. It was difficult to describe the change, but it was there. Aiden's very presence had transformed. It wasn't his appearance, voice, or movements—it was the aura radiating off him in waves, a terrifying mix of confidence, pressure, and hunger.
It was like standing in the eye of a predator.
Even Rene, whose will had resisted powerful telepaths, manipulators, and even Sylar himself in the past, felt something ancient stir within him—a primal urge to submit, to kneel.
And yet, he didn't speak. He didn't question. He simply followed.
---
Down in the hotel's underground parking garage, Aiden's sharp eyes scanned the vehicles. He spotted a white van parked in a corner near the elevator, its side plastered with a vinyl advertisement:
"New Dawn Cleaning Services – We Don't Just Clean, We Purify!"
The driver—a man in his forties with a tired face and a blue janitorial cap—was stepping out, clipboard in hand. The smell of lemon disinfectant wafted out from the open cargo bay.
Aiden approached calmly, placing a firm hand on the man's shoulder.
Startled, the driver turned. "Uh—can I help you with something, buddy?"
Aiden's eyes, already dark, began to swirl with an unnatural depth—like bottomless voids reflecting power beyond comprehension.
"I'll be borrowing your vehicle for a while," Aiden said, his voice eerily calm but utterly resolute. "You can come back tomorrow night to pick it up."
The man blinked, caught in the snare of Aiden's dominating presence. "Uh… y-yeah. Sure. Take it. I'll come back for it later…" he mumbled in a daze, already handing over the keys.
Rene silently took them, and the two entered the vehicle as if it were always theirs.
---
Inside the van, Aiden opened a digital interface on his tablet—one modified with data of known Superhumans. He tapped the screen, pulling up data, photos, and faint traces of energy signatures.
"Let's begin with Peter Petrelli," Aiden murmured.
The screen displayed Peter's profile: a soft-hearted nurse specializing in hospice care. Idealistic. Overly empathetic. The kind of man who wanted to save the world—but didn't yet realize the world didn't want saving.
Peter's family tree filled the screen next: his older brother Nathan Petrelli, a charismatic politician with the power of flight and a dangerous desire for control. Their mother—Angela Petrelli—with her hauntingly accurate precognitive dreams. And then there was Claire—Peter's niece, Nathan's biological daughter. The girl who couldn't die.
'A family full of secrets,' Aiden thought. 'And full of power.'
---
Peter had just left his patient's apartment after another long day. He descended the old staircase of the apartment complex, his bag slung over one shoulder, lost in thought. He looked up when he saw someone waiting at the bottom of the stairs—an unfamiliar man in a dark coat, standing too still.
Peter shifted slightly to the side, trying to move past. "Sorry, you heading upstairs?"
The man didn't move.
Instead, he asked, "Are you Peter?"
Peter blinked. "Yeah, that's me. Who are—?"
Before he could finish, Aiden smiled—a cold, clinical smile that didn't reach his eyes. In the dim stairwell light, his eyes shimmered black.
"Go wait in the van."
Peter's pupils dilated. His face went slack. "Yes… I'll wait," he said slowly, as if underwater.
He turned and walked out the door without another word.
---
Inside the apartment, Aiden stood before a wooden door with a cheap brass lock. He didn't knock. Instead, he stared at it, listening to the tumblers click, crack, and finally break. The lock disengaged on its own.
He stepped inside, moving through a modest living room filled with medical equipment, stale air, and faint traces of misery.
In the bedroom, an elderly man lay in bed—frail, his skin translucent with age. This was the patient Peter had been caring for. And yet, despite his physical decay, his eyes were sharp, almost alert.
He was a telepath. Faint, but still active.
Aiden turned his head slightly. "Expand your range," he said to Rene, who had entered behind him.
Rene gave a curt nod and moved to the balcony, stepping over a rusted railing before leaping across to the adjacent building's rooftop with practiced ease.
There, surrounded by pigeon cages and food trays, was another man. Scruffy, wild-eyed, with a thick beard and ragged coat. He had been watching from afar, thinking himself hidden behind illusion or power.
When Aiden's gaze met his from across the gap, the man stiffened.
"You're not running?" Aiden asked, voice low and calm. "Or do you think I'm bluffing when I say I see you?"
The man's heartbeat spiked. He said nothing, but his thoughts raced.
'Can he really see me? Is it a trick? Maybe he's bluffing. Maybe he's just fishing for a reaction…'
Aiden's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"I don't need tricks," he said softly. "You're trembling already."
The man's eyes widened.
Aiden stood tall on the balcony, his eyes fixed on the invisible man before him. The cool wind ruffled his coat, but his expression remained unreadable.
"I don't have any interest in deceiving you, invisible man," Aiden said flatly, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "I can see you because you're not invisible enough."
The invisible man, slowly revealing himself under Aiden's gaze, frowned. His scruffy beard and worn leather jacket gave him the air of a man who's been hiding too long. "Do you know what I'm thinking?" he asked, astonished, as realization dawned. His ability was faltering—Aiden was truly seeing through it.
Aiden gave a faint smirk. "You're wondering if I'm one of them. If I'm with the Company. You're also afraid. I don't blame you. Fear is natural when your illusion of safety is shattered."
The man staggered back, his foot catching slightly on a crack in the rooftop. "This… Are you with them!?"
"Them? No. I don't serve anyone. I conquer."
The man spun on his heel and tried to make a break for it, adrenaline kicking in. But before he could take more than a few steps, a blazing wall of fire erupted before him. He froze, gasping, as the heat washed over him. Before he could react further, a sharp pain struck his neck—a pressure point expertly struck. Darkness took him.
Aiden turned without even watching the man collapse. He walked calmly back inside the dim apartment, toward the frail figure slouched in a wheelchair by the window. The old man was black, his skin pale with age, eyes clouded but alert. He had the look of a thinker—a man who once had sharp insight but now sat waiting for death.
"You're dying," Aiden said quietly, kneeling beside him. "And your gift is wasted in your condition. But I can offer you a deal. Let me have your ability. In exchange, I promise to find someone who can extend your life. Not forever, but enough to give you a few more years. Time to see the world again."
The old man blinked slowly. His voice was gravelly, heavy with exhaustion. "And if I say no?"
"Then you'll die in that chair, tonight, forgotten."
Aiden reached forward and placed two fingers on the man's temple. His eyes shimmered, black irises glowing faintly. A moment later, the old man slumped forward, unconscious, and Aiden gently repositioned him in the chair.
Rene appeared at the door, dragging the invisible man by his collar. "He's out cold," he muttered.
"Good. Load them into the van. We're not done yet."
---
Several hours later, Aiden pushed open the door to his hotel suite. Rene followed behind him, but Aiden raised his hand. "You stay here only for now. Once I begin, you leave. I need to stay in control."
The room was dimly lit but full. Seven individuals sat or stood, varying between groggy consciousness and confused silence. All of them had one thing in common: special abilities. Powers. Gifts. Curses.