Chapter 3

Just as Halie pushed open the heavy iron gate at the back of the Avila villa, her terminal vibrated violently. Her father's name, Maximilian Avila, flashed on the screen.

She answered with a cold smile. Maximilian's furious roar blasted from the speaker, making her ear ache.

He screamed at her for hitting her sister, for shaming the family name. He officially, and with great relish, stripped her of her inheritance rights.

Then came the final judgment. "You are hereby exiled to the Southern District," he declared, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You can rot there for all I care."

Halie didn't cry or beg. Instead, a calm, almost pleased tone entered her voice. "Okay." Then she hung up.

The phone call had saved her the trouble of making an excuse to leave. Her destination was now officially sanctioned.

As dusk settled and a storm brewed on the horizon, she arrived at the underground black market. The hood of her sweatshirt and a deliberately lowered voice hid her identity.

She entered a dimly lit pawn shop, slamming the duffel bag onto the scratched counter. A cloud of dust puffed into the air.

The greedy pawnbroker tried to lowball her, his eyes glinting with the kind of disdain reserved for fallen aristocrats.

Halie said nothing. She simply let a tactical knife slide from her sleeve into her hand. She casually dragged the blade across the countertop, carving a deep, clean line into the wood.

The broker's eyes widened. The undisguised killing intent in her gaze made a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He quickly revised his offer to a fair market price, transferring the credits to her anonymous account.

With the money secured, Halie didn't waste a second. She hailed a battered hover-taxi on her terminal, paying a premium for a driver willing to go to the Southern District.

The taxi sped through the storm, the glittering neon lights of the city slowly giving way to decaying industrial ruins. The contrast was stark.

Halie leaned back and closed her eyes, replaying the system's data on Coleman, running through every possible scenario for their meeting.

Two hours later, the taxi screeched to a halt at the end of a pitted, unpaved street, kicking up a cloud of acrid dust.

"Out," the driver snapped, clearly anxious to leave. This place felt cursed.

Halie stepped out of the car. The wind whipped sand against her scarred cheeks, stinging her skin. She pulled her hood tighter.

Dragging her suitcase, she followed the weak signal on her terminal's map toward the only lit building in this wasteland: the Southern District Biological Research Institute.

The institute's gate was rusted and imposing. As she approached, two burly, hostile-looking guards blocked her path.

They mocked her hooded appearance and demanded a steep entrance fee.

Halie didn't argue. She slapped a wad of freshly exchanged cash onto one guard's chest and spoke a single name, her voice cold.

"Coleman."

At the mention of that name, the guards' expressions shifted. A flicker of fear, of apprehension toward that "mad scientist," crossed their faces. They silently stepped aside.

Halie walked through a dim, damp corridor. The air was a nauseating mix of disinfectant and the smell of something rotting, something vaguely plant-like.

She stopped in front of a heavy, sealed metal door. The name 'Coleman' was scrawled on it in faded red paint.

She took a deep breath. Just as she raised her hand to knock, a loud crash of shattering glass erupted from within, followed by a low, bestial growl.

A powerful wave of spiritual energy pulsed through the metal door, making her head spin. The system's red alert flashed frantically in her vision.

"Alert: Target Coleman is on the verge of a spiritual power riot. Danger level: SSS. Host is advised to evacuate immediately."

Halie didn't move. Her eyes narrowed. She entered the universal override code provided by the system. With a soft beep, the metal door hissed open.

The moment it opened, a violent gust of energy and glass shards blasted toward her. She instinctively threw her arm up to shield her face.

Through the gaps between her fingers, she saw him. The man in the center of the room, panting like a caged animal.

His silver-gray eyes locked onto hers, filled with nothing but the desire to destroy.