POV: Valerian
"Nano. Acoustic dampening active?"
"Affirmative. Internalizing vibrations of the host's footfalls. Heart rate suppressed to 45 BPM. You are biologically 'silent' to any standard human ear within a five-meter radius."
Valerian stopped at the corner of a grease-stained tavern. Across the street sat a three-story stone townhouse, far too opulent for this district. This was the residence of Silas Vane, a merchant who had grown fat on the diverted taxes of the Ironwood Barony.
According to the Baron, Silas had become "arrogant." In Valerian's terms, Silas was a system error that required a hard delete.
Two guards stood at the front gate. They were better equipped than the dungeon guards—wearing partial plate and carrying heavy crossbows. They weren't looking for a boy; they were looking for a riot or a rival merchant's hit squad.
"Nano. Scanning targets."
Target A (Left): Moderate alcohol levels detected. Vision slightly impaired. Resting weight on the right heel.
Target B (Right): Alert. Finger resting on the crossbow trigger. Scan indicates a concealed magical charm on his belt—likely a low-grade physical barrier.
"Thermal signature of the building?" Valerian asked.
A wireframe overlay of the townhouse appeared in his vision. "Six occupants. One in the master bedroom (Target: Silas). One in the kitchen. Two on the second floor. Two at the gate. There is a ventilation shaft in the rear, fourth-degree incline."
Valerian didn't take the front gate. He didn't want a fight; he wanted a demonstration.
He scaled the back wall with the fluid, unnatural grace of a spider. Nano adjusted the friction of his fingertips, stimulating the sweat glands to create a slight tackiness against the rough stone. He slipped through the ventilation shaft, his small frame navigating the cramped space with mathematical ease.
He emerged in the shadows of the second-floor hallway. The air here smelled of expensive wax and perfume.
He walked toward the master suite. A guard sat on a stool outside the door, nodding off. Valerian didn't use a blade. He reached out and touched the man's temple.
"Nano. Neural Interference: Sleep Induction."
A micro-electric pulse surged from Valerian's fingertip. The guard didn't even groan; his brain simply received a signal that it was time for deep REM sleep. He slumped against the wall, his breathing steady.
Valerian opened the door to the bedroom.
Silas Vane was every bit the cliché of a corrupt merchant. He lay sprawled across a bed of Asuran silk, his snoring sounding like a rhythmic wheeze. On the nightstand sat a pile of ledgers and a half-empty bottle of fortified wine.
Valerian didn't wake him immediately. He walked to the desk and began flipping through the ledgers.
"Recording data," Nano hummed. "Analyzing financial records… Discrepancies found. Silas is not just withholding taxes. He is funneling 30% of his revenue to a shell company based in the capital, Milishion. Primary recipient: 'The Emerald Hand.'"
"Political corruption," Valerian whispered. "The Baron is being bled from the inside."
This changed the parameters. A simple murder would be a waste. He needed to extract the name of the contact.
Valerian leaned over the bed. He pressed his thumb against Silas's carotid artery, just enough to restrict blood flow and trigger the brain's "panic" response.
Silas bolted upright, his eyes bulging as he tried to gasp for air. He saw a hooded figure looming over him, eyes glowing with a faint, terrifying blue light. He tried to scream, but his throat felt as though it had been turned to lead.
"If you make a sound," Valerian said, his voice shifted by Nano to sound like a distorted, multi-tonal rasp, "I will stop your heart. Not kill you—just stop it. I will let your brain begin to die from lack of oxygen for exactly sixty seconds before I start it again. We will repeat this until you provide the data I require."
Silas trembled, tears of terror streaming down his flabby cheeks. He nodded frantically.
Valerian eased the pressure. "Who is the contact for The Emerald Hand?"
"I… I don't know!" Silas wheezed. "It's a dead drop! I leave the gold at the 'Winking Fox' every full moon!"
"Voice analysis: 84% probability of truth. Stress levels indicate he is withholding the method of communication," Nano reported.
Valerian didn't argue. He placed his hand on Silas's chest.
"Nano. Trigger localized cardiac arrhythmia."
Silas's heart skipped a beat. Then another. His chest felt like it was being crushed by an invisible vice. He collapsed back onto the pillows, clutching his silk shirt, his face turning a sickly shade of gray. He couldn't even beg. He could only stare at the "demon" in front of him.
After ten seconds, Valerian restored the rhythm.
"The communication method, Silas. Efficiency is my priority. Do not waste my time."
"A… a whistle!" Silas gasped, his voice broken. "A silver whistle! I blow it three times by the docks! A man in a green cloak comes! Please… I'm just a middleman! The Baron… he's a dinosaur! Everyone knows the Darius faction is the future!"
Darius. The name popped up in the host's memories. High Minister Darius Silva Ganius—one of the most powerful, and corrupt, men in the Asura Kingdom. If Silas was working for him, the Ironwood Barony was already on a list for liquidation.
"The Baron wanted an example," Valerian mused. "But an example of death is temporary. An example of uselessness is eternal."
"What… what are you going to do?"
Valerian stood up. "Nano. Is the 'Neural Rewire' program ready?"
"Affirmative. Warning: This will permanently alter the target's cognitive functions. He will retain his memories but lose all motor coordination and the ability to form speech. He will be a 'locked-in' case."
"Proceed. It's more poetic this way. A merchant who cannot trade. A conspirator who cannot speak."
Valerian placed both hands on Silas's head. The merchant tried to struggle, but Nano flooded Valerian's muscles with a burst of strength that pinned the man like a butterfly to a board.
A high-pitched whine filled the room as the Nano Machines began to bridge the gap between Valerian's skin and Silas's scalp. To Silas, it felt like thousands of needles were piercing his skull, stitching through his very thoughts.
He didn't scream. He couldn't. His vocal cords were the first things to be disconnected.
Five minutes later, it was done.
Silas Vane lay on the bed, his eyes open and alert. He could see. He could feel. But he could not move a single muscle, not even to blink. He was a passenger in a corpse that was still breathing.
Valerian picked up the silver whistle from the nightstand and tucked it into his cloak. He then took the iron dagger and carved a single, perfect geometric shape into the wooden headboard of the bed—the symbol for "Zero."
"The Baron will find you in the morning," Valerian said, looking down at the paralyzed man. "He will see that his enemies are not just killed. They are erased."
Valerian walked to the window and stepped out into the night.
He had the data. He had the whistle. And, most importantly, he had a new energy source to investigate. If the Darius faction was involved, they would have mages—and mages had high-density mana pools.
"Nano. Set a waypoint for the Ironwood Library's restricted vault. It's time to see what 'Forbidden' actually means in this world."
"Acknowledged. Waypoint set. Battery: 14.5%. Recommending immediate mana extraction upon arrival."
End of Part 2