SKY'S JETS : THE RETRIBUTION SYSTEM

Chapter 8 Safe Scenarios Behind the Wheel

The silver Aston Martin roared as Erisia shifted gears, navigating the near-empty streets of South Jakarta with the predatory precision of a fighter pilot.

Inside the tight cockpit, the atmosphere was suffocating. Erisia’s slender index finger remained pressed against the center of Amar's chest, right over his heart. A faint, violet-tinted mist began to emanate from her skin, carrying a heavy, sweet wave of jasmine that instantly invaded his senses. It wasn’t just a scent; it was a physical weight, wrapping around his brain and pulling his consciousness toward a sweet, lazy oblivion.

In his head, Astraeus’s mental projection was pacing like a caged beast, practically screaming. "Fool! Clear your mind! The Weaver of the South is casting her net! One second of weakness, and she will bind your spiritual nodes to her will forever! Strike her! Crash this metal carriage!"

"Relax, old man. I’ve got this," Amar replied mentally, keeping his face entirely blank.

He didn't try to struggle, nor did he use any mystical shield. Instead, he simply looked down at her manicured finger, then slowly raised his eyes to meet her gaze, letting out a heavy, incredibly pathetic sigh.

"Look, Miss Erisia," Amar said, his voice entirely devoid of romantic tension. "If you don't take your finger off my chest in the next three seconds, I'm going to throw up all over this steering wheel. I'm serious. This leather looks expensive, and I really don't think your perfume mixes well with half-digested, double-spicy garlic fried rice."

He made a sudden, highly convincing choking sound, letting his head tilt forward slightly as his throat bobbed.

Erisia’s eyes widened in genuine horror. Her perfect composure cracked for a split second, and she instantly retracted her hand, wiping it on her silk skirt with a disgusted grimace.

"You really are a piece of work, Amar," Erisia muttered, her seductive voice instantly dropping its smoky undertone, replaced by the sheer annoyance of an elite socialite who had just been threatened with stomach acid. "Do you have any idea how many powerful men in this city would beg on their knees to have me touch them like that?"

"Well, those guys probably didn't grow up eating expired canned sardines and stale street noodles, Ma'am," Amar replied cheerfully, buckling his seatbelt and leaning back with an obnoxious grin. "My digestive tract doesn't care about your cosmic sex appeal. It only cares about survival. So, can we turn down the magic aromatherapy? The AC is already giving me a headache."

Astraeus let out a bewildered, hollow laugh in the deep corners of Amar's brain. "By the ancient gates of Rome ... she deployed a soul-binding spell of the highest order, and you defeated it by threat of biological waste. You are disgusting, Amar. Truly disgusting. But ... incredibly effective."

Erisia shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she gripped the steering wheel tight, pushing the sports car past eighty kilometers per hour on the Jakarta-Tangerang toll road.

"You're a parasite, Amar, but a fascinating one," she said, steering the car under the glowing neon lights of a towering billboard. "I suppose that's why the system chose you. A vessel with absolutely nothing to lose and a mind so thick it defies the logic of divinity."

"Hey, I have a lot to lose," Amar countered, patting the pocket where his remaining twenty-odd million lay safely tucked away. "I’m almost middle-class now. I’ve got a brand-new target list and a five-star rating to maintain on my delivery apps. Now, since you’re basically kidnapping me for a late-night drive, how about some details? What is this 'Pantheon War' anyway? And why does that greasy lawyer Surya and his boss want my kidneys?"

Erisia glided the car into the fast lane, the lights of the city’s high-rises reflecting off the hood.

"Jakarta isn't just a city of skyscrapers and slums, Amar," she explained calmly. "Underneath the municipal government, the corporate boardrooms, and the local street gangs, the city is sliced like a cheap pizza between different divine domains. We call it the Urban Pantheon."

She pointed to the dark skyline of North Jakarta to their right.

"The North is dominated by the Sector of Vice and Deception. Their chief executive is Malakor. You’ve already met his lapdogs, Surya, the pathetic lawyer, and Vex, who I hear is currently being treated for a severe, highly embarrassing case of water-sprinkler electrocution in a local ward. They use Mega Corps Bintaro as their financial and political cover, manipulating real estate, contracts, and underground casinos to harvest human desperation and greed."

Amar frowned. "So they’re like ... spiritual loan sharks?"

"Essentially," Erisia smiled. "But they harvest souls and karma instead of interest rates. Now, the West belongs to a crumbling faction of warlords who are too busy fighting each other to be a real threat. The East is mostly spiritual graveyard territory, where the ancient guardians are slowly sleeping. And the South ...." She tapped the steering wheel elegantly. "The South belongs to my Sektor. The Sector of Desire. We control the arts, the high society, the political lobbies, and the flow of information."

"So you're the one pulling the strings behind the celebrity scandals and corrupt politicians?" Amar asked, genuinely intrigued.

"We merely facilitate what humans already want, Amar," she replied smoothly. "But Malakor is getting greedy. He’s attempting to trigger a Red Eclipse next week to forcefully absorb the remnants of the dormant gods in this city. If he succeeds, his power will overwrite all other sectors. I can't let that happen. And neither can your passenger."

Astraeus's presence flared in Amar's mind, a dark, heavy static that smelled of copper and ozone. "Malakor ... that deceitful worm. In the old world, he would have crawled on his belly to lick the dust off my war sandals. To think his modern dogs dare to hunt my vessel."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, you were a big deal," Amar told Astraeus before looking back at Erisia. "And how does a broke college dropout who just got his first physical upgrade today fit into this corporate deity turf war?"

Erisia slowed the car as they exited the highway, entering the high-end commercial district of Bintaro. The dark glass facade of Mega Corps Bintaro’s headquarters loomed in the distance like an ominous black monolith.

"You have Astraeus's core, even if it's currently running at a pathetic one percent synchronization," Erisia said, her tone turning cold and serious. "But more importantly, you possess an absurd variable that defies Malakor's algorithms. His domain is built on calculated lies and deceit. But your actions ... they make absolutely no logical sense. You humiliate his people, ruin his plans, and leave no magical footprint because you’re essentially fighting him like a petty street thug."

"I take offense to that. I'm a highly professional, tactful street thug," Amar corrected, adjusting his collar.

"Whatever you want to call it," Erisia pulled the Aston Martin up to the curb of a quiet street, three blocks away from the massive corporate headquarters. She unlocked the doors. "This is as far as I go tonight. Malakor's scanners will detect my energy signature if I get any closer."

Amar looked out at the massive skyscraper. It looked like a fortress of glass, steel, and high-tech security guards.

"You're dropping me off here? Just like that? No weapon, no map, not even a bulletproof vest?" Amar asked, giving her an incredulous look.

"You don't need weapons, Amar," Erisia winked, pointing at the blank lanyard hanging from his neck—the Universal Badge of Deceit he’d pulled from the Gacha earlier. "You have your little magic card, your absolute lack of shame, and a mouth that could probably convince a saint to rob a bank. Go play in their sandbox. Cause some chaos, find out what they're storing on their central servers, and try not to get your organs harvested."

Amar looked at the blank ID badge, a slow, incredibly wicked smirk spreading across his lips.

"Well," Amar muttered, opening the passenger door and stepping out onto the cool pavement. "They did break my hotel room's 65-inch TV. And if there's one thing I hate more than being poor, it's people who owe me money."

Inside his head, Astraeus finally stopped pacing and grinned, his ancient, bloodthirsty aura aligning with the petty greed of his host. "Yes, boy. Let us show this corporate 'deity' what happens when they refuse to pay a god of war's debt."

"Keep the motor running, Ma'am," Amar waved back at Erisia without looking, strolling toward the massive glass towers of Mega Corps Bintaro. "I’m about to go file an official tax audit on these corporate cultists."