THE SYSTEM GAVE ME EVERY VILLAIN'S POWER

Chapter 4

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: IDENTITY SYNCHRONIZATION PAUSED AT 47%]

[REASON: EXTERNAL STIMULUS REQUIRED FOR FULL MERGER]

Kian slammed his hand onto the desk, extinguishing the spark between his fingers with a sharp hiss of pain. "No... no way. I'm not doing it. I’m not burning anything down."

"It’s just a little heat, Kian," the voice in his mind purred, sounding like the crackle of a dry log. "What’s the harm in a warm room? You’re so cold. You’re shivering, kid."

"I said shut up!" Kian groaned, stumbling away from the curtains. He grabbed his shredded hospital gown, trying to pull the ragged fabric closer around his chest. "I need to get out of here. I need food. I need real clothes. I need to look normal."

He grabbed the chipped key card and practically threw himself out of the room. As he hit the fourth-floor landing, his knees buckled, but he caught himself on the railing.

"You okay there, firestarter?"

Kian looked up. A woman in a greasy mechanics coverall was leaning against her doorway, a glowing blue wrench in her hand.

"I'm fine," Kian croaked. "Just... dizzy."

"Yeah, you and everyone else in this dump," she said, spitting into a metal bucket. "Watch the third step on the way down. The auto-repair bot died again and it’s basically a slide now."

"Thanks," Kian muttered, hurrying past.

Meanwhile, ten miles away, in the gleaming obsidian tower of the Vanguard Guild, a monitor chirped with a rhythmic, low-frequency pulse.

"Hey, Sarah, check the filters on the Sector 4 incident," a young man said, leaning back in his swivel chair. He tapped his glasses, which were layered with a holographic data-feed. "We’re getting a ghost signature near that hydrant collision from earlier."

Sarah, a woman with a sharp bob and a pristine white uniform, walked over, holding a cup of steaming mana-tea. "The arsonist guy? I thought the System marked him as neutralized."

"He was. Dead as a doorknob," the tech replied, expanding the visual. "But the cleanup crew found residual data-leaks. Look at this mana-trail. It didn't just dissipate. It’s moving."

"A scavenger?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows arching. "Or maybe a rogue Hero took the final hit?"

"Impossible. All the active Heroes in that vicinity were accounted for on the grid. This signature belongs to an unassigned user. High-residue absorption too," he said, his fingers flying across the screen. "Forty-seven percent synchronization density. That’s insane for a Level 1 kill."

Sarah set her tea down, her expression hardening. "Unassigned? You mean a zero-point citizen just absorbed a psycho-mana core without exploding? If that signature starts syncing higher, it could trigger a contamination event."

"Should I send a drone?" the tech asked.

"No," Sarah said, picking up her tablet. "If it's unassigned, a drone might spook it into a mana-meltdown in a high-density zone. Alert the local monitors. Put out a surveillance order for 'Anomaly 88.' If he shows up at any node—pharmacies, groceries, whatever—I want a silent flag immediately."

"You got it. Tagging his DNA profile from the hydrant blood-splatter now."

Kian stood at the entrance of a small, dimly lit convenience store titled The Point-Stop. His breath hitched as he stared at the security scanner at the door.

"Come on, keep it moving, newbie," a man behind him growled, shoving Kian forward. "Some of us have shifts at the scrap-yards."

Kian stumbled inside. The store smelled of ozone and cheap ramen. He grabbed a pack of nutritional bars and a plain black hoodie from a bargain bin near the back.

"This... this should be enough," Kian whispered. He pulled the hoodie over his hospital gown, relishing the weight of it. "Just look human. That's all. Just be Kian."

He walked up to the counter. The cashier didn't even look up; he was watching a live-stream of a dungeon raid on a miniature screen.

"Scanned?" the cashier asked flatly.

"I have these," Kian said, placing the items on the counter. "How many points?"

"Six for the hoodie, two for the bars. Total eight," the cashier yawned. "Hand on the scanner. Let the trade finalize."

Kian hesitated. "Does the scanner report to... anywhere?"

The cashier finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "Man, it’s a register. It checks your balance and clears the tax. You got a bounty or something?"

"No! No, I just... I’m new to the system," Kian said, his heart starting to race.

"Clearly. Just put your hand down. I don't have all night."

Kian pressed his palm against the glowing green glass.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: TRANSACTION IN PROGRESS...]

[IDENTIFICATION: KIAN ADIYATMA - UNASSIGNED]

[BALANCE: 40 -> 32 POINTS]

Suddenly, a tiny red dot began to blink on the bottom of the cashier's secondary screen. A high-pitched, almost inaudible hum started vibrating through the counter.

"Hey," the cashier said, leaning forward. His bored expression was replaced by a strange, focused squint. "Hold on. Something’s wrong with the signal. It’s taking a second to verify your residency tag."

"Did the points clear?" Kian asked, his eyes darting to the door. "If they cleared, I should go."

"Just stay put for a second, man," the cashier said, his voice dropping an octave into a more cautious tone. "The system is just... double-checking for a localized server error. Let me just reset the terminal."

"Is it my ID?" Kian's voice was rising. "I told you, I was in an accident. I haven't been assigned a class yet!"

A man in the line behind him stepped back, looking at Kian with suspicion. "Hey, why's the terminal humming like that?"

"Nothing, sir," the cashier said, his eyes now locked on Kian. "Buddy, why don't you wait in the back for a minute? My manager can help you clear this up."

"Your manager?" Kian looked at the screen. He saw the word [MONITOR NOTIFIED] flashing in reverse in the reflection of the glass. "No... no, I’m not waiting."

"Look, kid, don't make it a scene," the cashier warned, his hand moving under the counter. "Just stay right there."

"I'm leaving!" Kian grabbed the hoodie and the food bars.

"Hey! You can't leave until the tag confirms!" the cashier shouted, pointing a small, stun-baton over the counter. "I said stay!"

Kian didn't wait. He sprinted for the exit. As his feet hit the threshold, the silent alarm wasn't silent anymore. A shrill, digital siren began to scream from the doorframe.

"Anomaly located! Target at Point-Stop 42!" a voice boomed from the street-speakers outside.

"Move! Out of the way!" Kian shoved past a group of loitering teenagers.

"Hey, watch it, hospie!" one of them yelled.

Kian didn't look back. He rounded the corner into a crowded alleyway, his lungs burning again. His chest felt like it was filling with molten lead.

"They're coming for us, Kian," the arsonist’s voice giggled inside his head. "The pretty white knights in the shiny towers. They don't like anomalies. They like things in neat little boxes."

"Shut... up..." Kian gasped, ducking behind a row of rusted containers. "I just... need to disappear."

He scrambled through a narrow gap in a chain-link fence, his new hoodie snagging on the metal. He ripped it free and dove into the deeper shadows of the slums—the 'Dead Zones' where the city’s high-tech surveillance signal began to sputter and fail under the weight of layers of reinforced concrete and old-world architecture.

The further he went into the bowels of the lower district, the quieter the sirens became. Here, the streetlights were broken, and the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and rot.

Kian collapsed against a damp brick wall, sliding down until his butt hit the cold trash-strewn ground. He was shaking violently now.

"Safe," he whispered. "I think... I'm safe."

[SYSTEM ALERT: SURVEILLANCE SIGNAL LOST]

[CURRENT LOCATION: SYSTEM BLIND SPOT]

[WARNING: LEVEL OF PSYCHO-MANA SATURATION IS RISING DUE TO STRESS]

"I'm fine," Kian said to the screen, his voice small. "I just need a minute. Just one minute to breathe."

He stared at his boots, which were caked in mud. His vision was blurring again, the orange sparks starting to flicker at the edges of his sight. He clutched his head, pressing his forehead into his knees.

"So quiet down here," the voice inside him murmured. "No cameras. No heroes. Just us. We could sleep here. Or we could look for something... to keep us warm."

"I said... leave me... alone," Kian choked out.

"It’s a bit pathetic, isn't it?"

Kian froze. That wasn't the voice in his head. That was a real, physical voice coming from just a few feet away.

He slowly looked up.

A shadow was cast over him by a tall, elegant figure standing at the mouth of the narrow alcove. The moonlight from far above caught the edge of a sleek, expensive-looking silhouette.

Kian’s gaze traveled from the ground up. He saw the glint of a polished, sharp-toed red high-heeled shoe resting on the pavement just inches from his feet.

"You really made a mess of that convenience store, little anomaly," the woman said, her voice smooth as silk but as sharp as a razor. "And you look absolutely terrible in that hoodie."

Kian tried to scramble back, but his back was already flush against the wall. "Who are you? Are you a Hero? Are you here to kill me?"

The woman chuckled, a cold, melodic sound that didn't reach her eyes. "Hero? Please. Those boys at the Guild are far too busy writing reports to follow a signal down here. No, I’m just someone who hates to see good potential go up in smoke—or stay huddled in a pile of garbage."

"Stay away," Kian warned, his hand igniting with a small, unstable flame. "I mean it. I’m dangerous."

The woman stepped closer, the clicking of her red heel echoing like a gunshot in the silence of the alley. "I know you are, darling. That’s why I'm here."