City A came into view beneath a curtain of cloud and neon.
From above, it looked immaculate, perfect grids of light, vertical towers rising like glass blades, aerial traffic flowing with algorithmic precision. Drones traced invisible lanes through the sky, their blinking signals synchronized with the city's pulse.
Aine watched it all in silence.
"No wasted space," she noted.
"Efficiency fetish," Sera replied.
"City A prides itself on optimization. Infrastructure, population flow, surveillance coverage, everything is monitored."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you are already being observed," Sera said cheerfully.
"You just haven't been identified yet."
The jet descended smoothly, slipping into a private corporate landing zone registered under a shell company that had ceased to exist five years ago.
No customs.
No questions.
No delays.
The hatch opened.
Warm air rushed in, carrying the faint scent of rain, sterilized concrete, and electricity. Aine stepped onto foreign ground without hesitation, dressed in black from boots to collar, long coat falling open just enough to suggest confidence rather than concealment.
Her phone vibrated once.
Nyx: City A net is hostile. I'm inside. Sending packets.
Aine slipped an earpiece into place. "Feed me."
The city shifted around her, not physically, but perceptually. Routes highlighted themselves in her mind. Traffic rhythms. Blind spots. Security cycles.
Enhanced Perception whispered possibilities.
"Good," Aine murmured.
"Host," Sera added lightly,
"welcome to a city that thinks it's smarter than you."
Aine smiled.
—
The vehicle waiting for her was understated—dark, silent, unremarkable. She slid into the back seat as it pulled away, joining the flow of traffic like a drop of ink dissolving into water.
Holographic billboards flickered overhead, advertising biotech breakthroughs, longevity clinics, and neural optimization programs.
Viremont logos appeared more often than coincidence allowed.
Aine's eyes narrowed.
"They're not hiding," she said.
"Why would they?" Sera replied.
"City A grants corporate sovereignty to anyone wealthy enough. Viremont doesn't break laws here—they write exemptions."
The car slowed briefly as a checkpoint loomed ahead.
Biometric scanners swept the vehicle.
Aine didn't tense.
Her identity packet slid through unnoticed, rewritten in real time by Nyx's hands.
The gate lifted.
"Predictable," Aine said.
"Careful," Sera warned mildly.
"Arrogance gets sharp people killed."
"Only if they stop adapting."
—
The car halted inside an underground parking structure attached to a medical complex so clean it looked unreal.
White surfaces. Soft lighting. Artificial calm.
Viremont Asia-Pacific Advanced Biotech Center.
Aine stepped out and looked up.
This was where they were keeping her.
"What's her status?" Aine asked.
"Stable," Sera replied.
"…for now."
A transparent overlay appeared in Aine's vision—heart rate, neural activity, organ synchronization.
The numbers dipped. Recovered. Dipped again.
Aine's jaw tightened.
"She's fading."
"Gradually," Sera said.
"Which suggests intentional delay. They're gathering data."
"Then we're early."
"Barely."
Aine turned away from the facility entrance and walked instead toward the adjacent district, where the city's rhythm shifted, less polished, more layered.
"Not yet," she said. "I don't walk in blind."
—
The district looked like culture.
Tea houses. Calligraphy studios. Traditional martial academies tucked between modern structures, their exteriors humble, their presence heavy.
Aine felt it immediately.
Pressure.
Eyes she couldn't see watching her movements. Intent wrapped in discipline rather than malice.
"Martial factions," she said.
"Correct," Sera confirmed.
"City A hosts several hidden groups. They coexist through balance and mutual restraint."
"Balance breaks easily."
Aine entered a narrow street lined with paper lanterns. Conversations quieted subtly as she passed—not fear, but awareness.
A man stepped into her path.
Middle-aged. Calm. Wearing simple clothing that hid muscle trained beyond aesthetics.
"You're new," he said in Mandarin.
Aine met his gaze without slowing.
"Yes."
"This district isn't for tourists."
"I'm not here to sightsee."
A pause.
Then the man smiled faintly.
"Good. Neither are we."
He stepped aside.
Aine continued walking.
"That was a test," Sera said.
"You passed by not caring."
"Caring wastes time."
—
She didn't make it three blocks before the tail revealed itself.
Three men. Clean movements. Corporate posture pretending to be casual. Viremont security, not the public kind.
Aine turned into an alley.
They followed.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the city seemed to exhale.
Aine stopped.
"Too slow," she said softly.
The first man reached for his weapon.
He never finished the motion.
Aine moved.
Weapon Intuition aligned her body perfectly—distance, angle, force calculated in less than a heartbeat. Her elbow crushed a throat. A knife appeared in her hand and vanished again, clean and efficient.
The second man fell without a sound.
The third tried to run.
Aine caught him by the collar and slammed him into the wall.
"Message," she said calmly.
His eyes were wide with terror.
"Tell the Viremont family I'm here for what they stole."
She knocked him unconscious.
When she stepped back onto the street, the alley behind her was quiet. Bloodless. Perfectly forgettable.
"Unofficial kill count: zero," Sera commented.
"Official intimidation score: adequate."
Aine adjusted her coat and looked toward the glowing medical complex in the distance.
"Day one," she said. "I don't like delays."
"Neither does your sister," Sera replied softly.
"Time remaining: six days, twelve hours."
Aine's eyes hardened.
"Then let's stop wasting it."
—
The air shifted the moment Aine stepped out of the alley.
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't hostility.
It was interest.
She felt it like a change in pressure, subtle but undeniable, eyes recalibrating, intent refocusing. Somewhere above street level, behind latticed windows and paper screens, conversations paused.
Aine kept walking.
"You've officially been noticed," Sera said lightly.
"Congratulations. The Quiet Circle doesn't bother tracking people unless they matter."
"Good," Aine replied. "I hate anonymity."
She crossed into a small plaza centered around an old stone well, incongruous amid steel and glass. Lantern light painted the ground in warm hues, masking the tension humming beneath the surface.
An elderly woman sat near the well, feeding koi from a porcelain bowl.
Her hands were steady.
Her breathing was deep.
Her presence was… dense.
Aine stopped a few steps away.
"You're far from home," the woman said without looking up.
"So are you," Aine replied.
The koi stilled.
The woman smiled faintly and finally raised her eyes; clear, sharp, unclouded by age.
"Name," she said.
"Aine."
No title.
No aliases.
The woman nodded once. "You bring disturbance with you."
"I bring solutions," Aine said. "Disturbance is optional."
A soft chuckle.
"City A doesn't like blunt instruments."
Aine's gaze hardened just a fraction. "Then it shouldn't shelter cowards."
Silence followed, not awkward, but measured.
Then the woman rose slowly, joints creaking more from habit than weakness.
"The Black Chrysalis hums tonight," she said. "That hasn't happened in years."
Aine didn't react outwardly.
Inside, everything sharpened.
"You know what's happening there."
"We know something is ending," the woman corrected. "And something else is approaching."
"Host," Sera murmured, unusually quiet,
"this woman's probability curve is… abnormal."
The woman studied Aine closely now.
"You walk like death," she said calmly. "But you don't reek of it. Interesting."
"I'm on a schedule," Aine said. "If you're going to interfere, do it now."
Another pause.
Then the woman stepped aside, gesturing toward the street leading back toward the medical complex.
"City A will not stop you," she said. "Not yet."
Aine inclined her head once—not gratitude, but acknowledgment.
As she walked away, Sera spoke again.
"That was permission."
"Temporary," Aine replied.
"Everything is," Sera agreed.
Ahead, the Viremont facility gleamed white against the night, sterile, confident, unaware.
Aine's fingers brushed the crescent beneath her collar.
"Tomorrow," she said quietly.