After Credits

Listen to: TK from Ling Tosite Sigure — "Signal"

The city's heartbeat didn't stop just because I did. The fight was over, the dust had settled, and Kairo went back to pretending like the world wasn't built on a pile of corpses and bad decisions.

Funny thing about the aftermath: it's always quieter than you expect, but it never stays that way for long. The second you start thinking you're done, the world rolls its sleeves up and proves you wrong.

I sat on the cracked window ledge of what passed for my apartment. Concrete box, zero insulation, a view that was ninety percent smog and ten percent regret. My body still felt like a rental car returned after a demolition derby, but the bleeding had stopped. Mostly. The nanomeds were doing their thing, knitting tissue and sealing fractures like an overworked factory on holiday overtime.

Void Chain was gone. Bagged and tagged. Off to whatever black site the authorities sent Quirk threats too broken to be publicly tried. But his words still stuck to the inside of my head like old gum.

"Answers? In this world? Kid, the answers died long before either of us got here."

That was the kind of line you don't forget, no matter how many victory laps you take around the wreckage. And I wasn't exactly taking any. Because the fight might've ended, but the war? The war was still staring me down from the horizon.

And I wasn't sure I wanted to keep showing up.

Morning sunlight fought through the gray haze, painting the walls a sickly yellow. I shifted against the ledge, muscles aching in protest, and let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Below, the streets moved like nothing happened. Drones zipped past like clockwork. Civilians rushed to jobs that didn't pay enough to be worth the risk. Another day in paradise.

My comm crackled, the broken static slicing through the quiet like a blade. I didn't answer. Let them wonder. Let them sit with the silence.

I'd spent so long playing the system's game, I forgot what it felt like to pause. To just... be. Not Kael Arashi, the anomaly. Not the vigilante dodging hero licenses and red tape. Just... me.

But the world doesn't like when you stand still. It doesn't like loose pieces that don't fit the puzzle.

A knock echoed against the steel door. Precise. Calculated. The kind of knock that didn't belong to someone making a social call.

I stood, bones creaking, and limped over. One glance through the cracked peephole told me everything I needed to know. Black coat, government-issue boots, and the expression of someone who'd made peace with having no soul years ago.

"Kael," the agent said, voice flat as concrete. "We need to talk."

They never come alone. I clocked two others lurking behind him before the door even finished opening. Standard-issue spooks. The kind of suits that thought they could kill you with a glance if their budget allowed for it.

"Make it fast," I muttered, leaning on the doorframe like I hadn't spent the last two nights sleeping in a bloodstained hoodie.

The agent didn't flinch. "Void Chain. Where is he?"

"Shouldn't you be the one telling me that? I left him wrapped up like a Christmas present for your people."

The agent's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Transport convoy never made it to the holding site. The asset's missing."

The words hit harder than any punch. Not because I cared about Void Chain — hell, I'd nearly killed him myself — but because I knew what a missing villain meant in this city. It meant the fight wasn't over. It meant the war wasn't waiting for me at the horizon anymore.

It was already here.

I didn't let the suits see the shiver crawl up my spine. I just crossed my arms, leaning harder against the doorframe.

"So what? You want me to go fetch your trash for you?"

"Consider it damage control," the agent replied, passing me a thin data shard. "Intel's light, but we've flagged two probable extraction zones."

I turned the shard over in my hands, the glass warm with freshly encrypted files. This wasn't an ask. It was a leash. Same old song.

"And if I say no?"

His stare didn't waver. "You won't."

And he was right.

It took me two hours to gear up, not because I needed the time, but because I needed the silence. Gear is easy. Decisions aren't.

Void Chain loose meant one thing: someone bigger was pulling the strings. The system didn't let its monsters out without reason. Not unless it needed a scarier one to justify the next crackdown.

And me? I was stuck between both sides. Too dangerous to fit in. Too human to walk away clean.

I slipped my gloves on, the reinforced knuckles cracked and scuffed from a lifetime of bad choices. The mirror caught my reflection, and for a moment I didn't recognize the person staring back.

A kid once wanted to be a hero. Now? Now I was just trying not to become the villain.

The shard pulsed green in my pocket, waiting. I opened the window, letting the city's cold breath wash over me.

The first flagged site wasn't much. An abandoned rail yard, overrun with rust and graffiti. The kind of place the city pretended didn't exist, so the scavengers and ghosts could call it home.

I kept to the shadows, quirk humming low in my veins, every step calculated. My body still ached, but pain was a language I'd learned to speak fluently.

A flicker of movement caught my eye. Too sharp for the wind. Too deliberate for a stray animal.

I reached out, stretching my quirk like a second pair of hands. Reality bent, threads of cause and effect tightening under my grip. My version of a safety net.

The figure stepped into view, all black coat and broken posture.

Not Void Chain.

Worse.

"Hello, Kael," the stranger said, voice wrapped in velvet and barbed wire. "Been a long time."

I didn't need his name. My gut supplied it before my brain caught up.

The one person the system feared more than me.

The sharp taste of adrenaline kicked in before the words finished leaving his mouth. I knew that voice. You don't forget the sound of the person who redefined your nightmares.

"Eon," I muttered. The name scraped its way out of my throat, bitter and unwelcome.

He smiled like the world was a joke only he got. Same cocky tilt of the head, same lazy confidence. Except his eyes—those didn't match the old photos. They were colder now, like the part of him that used to care about the human side of things had long since checked out.

"Void Chain was never the endgame," he said, hands in his coat pockets. "Just a loose thread. You're the real variable, Kael. Always were."

The sky above seemed to hold its breath, the whole world sharpening into one frozen moment. I didn't move, not yet. I knew better. Eon wasn't the type to waste words unless he wanted them to hurt more than his fists ever could.

"You ever wonder," he continued, stepping closer, "why the system keeps you alive? Why you're still allowed to play the hero without a license, without oversight? It's not mercy. It's investment."

I clenched my jaw, the weight of his meaning sinking in. Investment. As in—I'm their asset. Their weapon, waiting on standby.

"You're lying," I shot back, even though the pieces in my head were already clicking together.

Eon's grin didn't waver. "They let you win, Kael. Every fight. Every 'victory.' You're the best commercial for state control this crumbling city ever had."

He turned away, boots scraping against broken concrete.

"But you're almost ready," he added. "And when you are, they're going to cash you in. Sooner than you think."

Then he vanished, not with flair or explosions—just gone, like he'd never existed at all.

And I stood there, watching the city breathe, and realized the fight was only just beginning.