I made my way down the hospital corridor, and I pulled out my phone and dialled Argyle's number. He picked up on the second ring.

  "Aiden. How's your brother?"

  "Awake and stable," I replied, my voice low as I stepped into an empty stairwell. "Thanks for the assist with the doctor. But we've got a problem. Whatever he got dosed with was magical, nasty shit. I used a potion I had on hand to purge it.”

  "I was afraid you were going to say that." I could hear the sigh he was holding back from the other side of the line. "I take it you aren't going to be reasonable about this?"

  "I need to find the source," I growled, my free hand clenching into a fist. I was feeling distinctly unreasonable by this point in time. "Sean mentioned a name. Bradley Sturm, we knew him as a scumbag dealer back in school. Ring any bells?"

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Unfortunately, yes. He's a low-level dealer, but he's been making waves recently. Rumour has it he's made connections to the Vish, and as a result got his hands on some... exotic merchandise."

  "Exotic as in System-enhanced?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

  "Precisely," Argyle confirmed. "The Banner's been keeping tabs on him because of this new connection to the Vish, but they haven't moved yet. Too much red tape, apparently."

  I snorted. "Well, I'm not bound by their bureaucracy. Two questions: who are the Vish? And where can I find this piece of shit?"

  "Aiden," Argyle's voice took on a warning tone. "I know you're angry, but rushing in half-cocked-"

  "He nearly killed my brother and however many other people," I cut him off, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Angry is the least of what I am right now, Argyle. "

  Another sigh from Argyle. "I understand. But please, be careful. The Vish are the equivalent of the magical criminal underground. You might think of them as a cartel with some extra punch. While they can’t bring as much to bear as the Banner or my own Unseen, that does not mean they are not a threat to be taken seriously.”

  I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to take a deep breath, while I processed Argyle's warning. Anger was good when harnessed and focused. Properly directed. Formless rage would help no one, least of all myself, a lesson I'd thought I'd learned by now. I took a moment to bank the coals of my rage, letting it simmer in the background. Information first vengeance after. Cold and collected.

  "Noted. Now, about Sturm's location?"

  "Sean was picked up from a house party, here in town. The place is registered in Sturm's name." Argyle rattled off as if he were reading the information directly and paraphrasing. "Downtown, 1331 Market Street. The banner will likely send a clean-up crew in your wake. We'd all appreciate it if you could keep your vengeance contained and discreet."

  "I'll see what I can do. No promises." I hung up, stuffing my phone into my [Inventory] as I made my way down the stairwell, heavy footsteps echoing up and down. I barged through the steel door marked 'EXIT' that led out towards the street. I knew my city well enough to know where I was going, approximately at least, from the address. As I made my way out to the street, I took a brief look over my gear, making sure everything was in place. My accessory slots were filled with my ring and Necklace, [Ring of Chitin] and [Totem of Regrowth]. I still wore my [Rootweave Boots]. A flick of my mind had my [Chitinous Cuirass] appear beneath my hoodie, which was in truth

  [Mirage of the Root-Nexus], my magical shape-shifting cloak. [Reach of Webs] and [Tyrant Bracers] were fitted snugly on my hands and forearms, most hidden by my sleeves. I was quite well equipped, all things considered.

  I reached into my pocket to grasp the stone Argyle had handed me before casting the ritual that had hidden me on my way to the hospital. I had hoped I wouldn't be using this one so soon, but such was the way of things. I dropped the stone on the ground and crushed it beneath my heel; there was little in the way of resistance. It was almost like crushing a large nut underfoot.

  You have been affected by [Unmarking Ritual].

  The magic washed over me, a tingling sensation that left me feeling oddly hollow. I knew from Argyle's explanation that the ritual would make me harder to track or remember. It wouldn't make me invisible, especially to those who were system-initiated, but it would help me move through the city unnoticed. I set off at a brisk pace, my long strides eating up the distance. The anger I'd banked earlier smouldered in my chest, providing fuel for my determination. As I walked, I felt Vipera stirring within our soul-bond. The pulse of anger and excitement seemed to ask if we were on the hunt, much like when we had hunted the open plains and jungles of the Soul-Sheer.

  "We hunt," I confirmed silently. "But carefully. Sturm is connected to something bigger."

  I could feel her agreement and anticipation pulse back across our bond. As my familiar, Vipera was as invested in this as I was. Her loyalty was unwavering, and I knew she'd have my back no matter what we faced.

  The streets grew busier as I approached the downtown area. Thanks to the [Unmarking Ritual], people's eyes seemed to slide right past me. I hadn't had the time to pay much attention to it during my rapid journey to the hospital previously. It was an unsettling feeling, but useful to have all the non-system folk ignore me.

  Note to self, find the Unmarking ritual in the codex later.

  As I neared Market Street, my aura pulsed almost constantly. Despite the practice I'd had with manipulating it recently, I still couldn't keep it constantly active at my maximum range. The mental strain of taking in that much information constantly was too draining. Perhaps if I had more Intelligence? Or maybe perception, then it might be possible. For now, the rapid fire pulses suited my needs, acting almost like a sonar. A sonar that gave significantly more information than just size, shape, and distance, the way a human built one would. It was like having an internal 3-dimensional map of my surroundings, one that highlighted the presence of anything living, and then gave me feedback based on their relative strength as well as their mental and emotional state. If it weren't for my increased stats, there was no way my brain would have been able to handle the utter deluge of information provided by my aura senses. It just wouldn't have been possible for a normal brain to handle the load; I had to imagine it would probably have sent a non-initiated human into a stroke or some sort of seizure.

  As I approached 1331 Market Street, the bustling city around me seemed to fade into the background. My focus narrowed, honing in on the three-story brownstone that stood before me. It was an older building, its facade weathered by time and the elements, but still maintaining an air of faded elegance. Ornate cornices adorned the roofline, and wrought-iron railings guarded small balconies on the upper floors.

  I paused across the street, leaning against a streetlamp as if checking my phone. In reality, I was gathering myself, preparing to sweep the building with my aura senses. Utilizing them actively took more of my attention than I would like, but I needed more than the passive sense would provide. I took a deep breath, centring myself, and then released my aura in a controlled wave.

  The world around me exploded into a cacophony of information. Every living thing within my range lit up like a beacon in my mind's eye, matches flickering in the darkness. I could sense the scurrying of rats in the alleyways, the flutter of pigeons on nearby rooftops, and the steady heartbeats of pedestrians passing by, bright in comparison to their surroundings. The coffee shop nearby was a hive of activity, dozens of auras flickering like candles, their emotions a swirling mix of caffeine-fueled energy and end-of-day fatigue. The pawn shop was quieter, just two presences - likely the owner and a late customer. It was the building across the street, my destination, that drew my attention, however. As my aura washed over it, I could feel the presence of three distinct auras within – all of them Rankers, they were far too bright to be non-system folk.

  One aura, on the second floor, felt unfamiliar - a roiling mass of barely contained aggression and paranoia. Another, in the basement, was calmer but no less dangerous, like the still surface of a deep, predator-filled lake. Guards, if I had to guess. It seemed that Sturm did indeed have some connections that went beyond the ordinary. Neither of those two felt like a threat; their auras lacked weight if I compared them to many of the monsters I'd faced in the rogue dungeon. That wasn't to say they weren't dangerous, just not anywhere near the same level of threat I was used to dealing with by this point. If I'd had my aura senses at the time, I was sure the Realm Weaver would have been a threat orders of magnitude above these three men.

  And then there was the third aura, situated on the middle floor. The moment I sensed it, a wave of revulsion washed over me. It felt oily and slimy, leaving an almost physical sensation of grime on my psyche. The man's presence oozed through my senses like an oil slick, leaving a film of sleaze in its wake. His aura pulsed with a nauseating mix of arrogance and a desperate hunger for power. I knew without a doubt that this was Bradley Sturm. His aura matched his personality perfectly – repulsive and slimy. Not something I'd enjoy touching at all. Just the thought made me feel like I needed a shower, or three.

  As I probed deeper, I realized with a start just how weak Bradley's aura felt compared to my own. It was like comparing a puddle to an ocean. The realization brought a grim smile to my face. He was fundamentally outclassed. I allowed myself a grim smile. For all his new connections, Bradley's aura felt pathetically weak compared to my own. It wasn't an exact measurement; I couldn't tell what level he was through his aura alone, but I could tell he was significantly weaker relative to my own strength. Whatever boost the System had given him, it was nothing compared to the strength I'd gained through blood, sweat, and the crucible of the Soul-Sheer. I continued my scan, noting the layout of the building. The ground floor seemed to be a sort of common area or living room, while the upper floors were divided into smaller rooms. Bradley's aura was emanating from what appeared to be a study or office on the second floor.

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  As I pulled my aura back, letting the sensory overload fade, I felt Vipera's excitement coursing through our bond. She had sensed what I had, or at least an approximation of it through our bond, and she was eager for the hunt to begin. The anger simmering in my gut demanded action. I had known Sturm for a long time. There was history there, and promises made. Promises of violence. It was time I carried those out. Straightening up, I strode across the street, waving several vehicles past as I did, to the front door of the building. I stood before the heavy steel door and brought my fist crashing against the door three times in rapid succession.

  Bang Bang Bang.

  I was reminded briefly of all the TV shows Vicky enjoyed that featured police. She'd always enjoyed them, and for a long time, we thought she'd end up joining the local precinct. Instead, she'd become a lawyer, and a damn good one. I grinned as I watched the men in the building scramble through my aura senses; they were well within passive range now. It seemed my knocking was more than a little cop-like than I initially thought. I blamed it on all those times Vicky had forced the family to sit down and watch her shows. Moments later, one of the auras I suspected belonged to a guard approached the door, and it swung part of the way open a moment later, preceded only by the heavy thunk of what I assumed was a heavy deadbolt. Behind the door was a large, burly man who looked like he spent more time at the gym than anywhere else. He looked like he took his daily dose of roids with breakfast every morning. There was a time that might have intimidated me a little, not much, but a little. That time was long past. My height, courtesy of my stats and the system, had put me well over average height by this point and allowed me to glare down at the larger man.

  "Sturm." I growled, "Where is he?" The burly man's eyes narrowed, his stance shifting subtly into a more defensive posture.

  "Who's asking?" he growled back, his meaty hand gripping the edge of the door tightly. The man looked me up and down, rapidly assessing me as not a threat and not someone he needed to treat with any level of respect. I didn't have time for this. My aura pulsed, washing over the guard. I could sense his sudden spike of unease, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of false bravado.

  "Someone who doesn't answer to peons like you. Go get your boss." I growled low and dangerous. If this guard didn't fold here, I'd flatten him and go find Sturm myself. The guard's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of fear crossing his face before he managed to school his expression. He hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between following orders and his instinct for self-preservation. I could see the moment he made his decision.

  "Wait here," he grunted, stepping back and closing the door in my face. He’d prolonged his life for a few moments more. I tracked the guard through the building with my aura. He was heading straight for Sturm. I waited, my patience waning with each passing second. Through my aura, I tracked the guard's movement up the stairs and into the room where Bradley's slimy presence lurked. There was a brief flurry of agitated emotions from both of them - surprise, fear, and then a surge of bravado from Bradley that felt hollow even at this distance. I withdrew my senses when I felt Bradley and his two guards returning down the stairs.

  The door opened again, this time revealing Bradley Sturm himself. He'd changed since high school, but not for the better. His lanky frame had filled out, but not in a healthy way. His face was gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. But his eyes - they held the same cruel, calculating look I remembered. Memories washed through my mind at the sight of the man. Memories of unpleasant rumours. Memories of Sean coming home late at night, black eyes, cracked ribs. Shouting matches with our father when Sean wouldn't say what happened. A memory of two brothers talking softly in the predawn light. A beating from Bradley and his cronies for interceding on behalf of some poor co-ed who had caught the thug's attention at a party.

  Memories of a dire promise made.

  One that would be kept.

  "Well, well," he drawled, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as I snapped back to reality. "If it isn't Aiden Kaesor. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  The anger in my gut was boiling once again, turning to rage. I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You know why I'm here, Bradley. The party. The drugs. My brother."

  His smirk widened into a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, yes. Little Sean. How is he? Enjoying his trip?"

  The anger I'd been holding back surged forward, and I took a step closer. Bradley flinched, his bravado cracking for just a moment before he regained his composure.

  "You nearly killed him," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "And who knows how many others. Did you think I wouldn't come for you?"

  Bradley's smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, adopting a nonchalant pose. "Come now, Aiden. It was just a bit of fun. Your brother knew what he was getting into. Besides, I'm not the same pushover you knew in high school. I've got... connections now."

  As if on cue, his two guards stepped forward, flanking him from the other side of the doorway. They were both large men, muscles bulging beneath their tight shirts and jackets. One cracked his knuckles menacingly, while the other reached into his jacket, no doubt for a weapon.

  I didn't flinch. My aura had already told me everything I needed to know about these men. They were threats, yes, but not to me. Not anymore.

  "Last chance, Bradley," I said, my voice eerily calm despite the rage churning inside me. He wasn’t going to be walking away from this alive, but he didn’t need to know that just yet. "Tell me about the drugs. Where did you get them? Who else have you sold them to?"

  Bradley's face twisted into a sneer. "Or what? You'll beat me up like old times? I don't think so, Kaesor.” The guard on Bradley's left, a hulking mass of muscle with a shaved head and a permanent scowl, stepped forward. His voice was a deep rumble, like gravel in a cement mixer.

  "Boss, you want me to teach this punk a lesson? I'll toss him off the porch like yesterday's trash."

  The guard's eyes gleamed with a predatory light, his massive fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wanted a fight, clearly. The wooden floorboards of the porch creaked ominously under his weight as he shifted his stance, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Bradley stopped the man with a raised hand.

  His dogs are yapping.

  I grinned, my face a rictus of malice and wrath. "The last time you hurt my little brother, I made you a promise, Sturm," I said softly, fixing him with a dead-eyed stare. "Do you remember?" I said softly as I pressed down on all three men with my aura. Not as hard as I could have, just enough to make them worry a little. Bradley's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine fear crossing his face as the memory surfaced. His cocky demeanour faltered, replaced by uncertainty.

  "Why don't you fuck off, asshole?" he growled, his voice a guttural rumble that seemed to emanate from deep within his chest. "Before I throw your scrawny ass off this porch and into next week." The insult hung in the air, a pathetic attempt at intimidation that fell flat in the space between us. I paid the guards no attention; my gaze never left Sturm.

  All three of them were worried now. A little frightened. I could tell by the tremulations along the surface of their auras. Except for one. Sturm.

  His aura rattled and shook as if it were a drum being beaten with a bat. Like a leaf in a hurricane.

  "You... you wouldn't dare," he stammered, taking an involuntary step back. "I'm connected, Kaesor, the people I represent would tear you apart!" His voice ratcheted up in fear. It was abundantly clear he remembered the promise I'd made to him that day, and the savage beating that had preceded it. One that had left him hospitalized for the better part of six months.

  "I remember Bradley. I told you I would kill you if you ever touched my family again. I'm a man of my word, Bradley." I said as the two thugs flanking him began to pull him back so they could step up between us. "Promise made, promise kept, Sturm."

  Without warning, I lifted my leg and planted my boot square into Sturm's chest, with all 61 points of Strength I possessed.

  I felt ribs crack under the weight of my booted foot as Bradley was launched backwards into the building. His passage caught the two guards who'd been positioned mostly behind their boss by surprise; the three of them went down in a heap of bodies. A tangle of flailing limbs as their fall carried them back into the common area of the ground floor. Calmly, I stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind me, flicking the lock to closed, more out of a sense of drama than anything else. My eyes scanned the room. The common area was a mess of expensive furniture and tacky decorations, all speaking to Bradley's inflated sense of self-importance and the money he made peddling death.

  "Boss!" one of the guards shouted, struggling to disentangle himself from the heap. Bradley lay wheezing on the floor, his face a mask of pain and shock. The other guard was already on his feet, pulling a gun from his jacket.

  I moved before he could aim, my enhanced body carrying me across the room in a blur faster than any normal human could move. My hand closed around his wrist, squeezing with crushing force, grinding the man’s bones to dust underneath. Not enough points in Endurance, not nearly enough. With my other hand, I grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet.

  "You really don't want to do that," I said, my voice eerily calm. I could feel Vipera's excitement pulsing through our bond, reminding me that these men were part of the system. There was no need to hold back against them at all. I let Vipera take form, materializing around me before rapidly slithering around the guard. I promptly dropped to the floor. The man was out of the equation already. he had no chance of overwhelming my familiar.

  The guard's eyes bulged as he clawed at Vipera’s coils, his feet kicking uselessly as she wrapped him. I watched for a moment longer before turning back to the remaining guard and Sturm himself.

  The other guard had managed to get to his feet and was charging at me, his face contorted with rage. Strum was still on the ground, wheezing from his fractured ribs. None of these goons had the Endurance or healing ability to shrug off broken bones and serious wounds the way I did. Poor them.

  I side-stepped the charging guard effortlessly; the enhanced reflexes my high Dexterity offered me made the uncoordinated attack seem almost comically slow. As he stumbled past, I grabbed the back of his neck and whirled the man around to slam him face-first into the wall. The drywall broke under the impact, and the guard slumped to the floor, dazed but not unconscious.

  "Stay down," I growled, "if you know what's good for you."

  Turning my attention back to Bradley, I saw he had managed to prop himself up against a nearby couch, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. His face was a mask of pain and fear, all traces of his earlier bravado gone.

  "Aiden, please," he wheezed, his eyes darting frantically between me and Vipera, who was still coiled around the first guard, slowly choking the man into unconsciousness. "I-I can explain. It wasn't supposed to go like this."

  I stalked towards him, my anger a palpable force as my aura pressed down on the man. "Explain what, Bradley? How you almost killed my little brother? How many others have you hurt with your 'product'?"

  Bradley flinched at my words. "It... it was just business. The Vish offered me a chance. Power, money, connections. I couldn't say no."

  "The Vish," I repeated, my voice dangerously low. "Tell me everything you know about them. Now."

  Bradley's eyes widened, realizing he might have a chance to save his own skin. He spoke quickly, words tumbling out between pained gasps.

  "The Vish... they're not like normal dealers. They've got magic, real magic. The drugs they gave me, they're special somehow. Makes people stronger and faster. Like magic, like being added to the system, but not. There are... side effects. Risks."

  I crouched down, grabbing Bradley by the front of his shirt and pulling him close. "Keep talking," I growled.

  "The people I’ve been dealing with operate out of Toronto, but they've got people everywhere. I'm just a small fish, Aiden. I swear, I didn't know how dangerous the stuff was. They just told me to distribute it, see how it affected people."

  My grip on his aura tightened, causing Bradley to wince. "And you didn't think to question why they wanted you to test it on unsuspecting people? You piece of shit."

  "I'm sorry!" Bradley whimpered, his earlier bravado completely gone. "Please, Aiden. I'll tell you everything I know. Just don't kill me."

  I could feel Vipera's disappointment through our bond. She had been looking forward to sinking her fangs into Bradley. Part of me wanted to let her, to watch as the venom coursed through his veins, to see the fear in his eyes as he realized his life was ending. But I needed information more than I needed revenge. Sturm had successfully extended his life span. Only for a few minutes, but still.

  "Talk," I ordered, releasing my grip, sending the man tumbling to the ground. Vipera slithered over to coil around my feet, her sharp blue gaze fixated on Sturm, where he was crumpled on the ground. I could feel the blood lust radiating across our bond. She wanted his blood badly. She could feel that he'd hurt my family, and by extension, me. That drew her own rage like a wildfire to kindling, like pouring gasoline on it. She wanted his blood as badly as I did. This was nothing new for me, but I hadn't felt this level of rage from Vipera before. It elevated my own to new heights.

  People were a thing I had long struggled with, as a concept. People weren't really people to me, outside of my family and the few people I cared for personally, like Cade. People were just there, just a part of life. Yet when someone drew out the rage in me, the anger that had always simmered just beneath the surface, even that vanished like smoke in the wind.

  People like Bradly Sturm were just meat.

  Nothing more.

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