The Sovereign’s Retribution: Daily Login to Godhood

Chapter 03: The Nightshade Encounter

The black luxury sedan glided through the rain-slicked streets of Veridian City. Sarah Miller sat in the plush leather seat next to Silas, her hands clenching her worn nursing bag. She looked at Silas—dressed in a simple hospital gown but draped in a borrowed coat—and felt as if she were sitting next to a dormant volcano.

"Silas," she whispered, "that card... that money... Julian Thorne will find out you're alive. He has eyes everywhere. The police, the banks, the docks—he owns this city."

Silas turned his gaze from the window. His eyes seemed to catch the neon lights of the city and refract them into something colder. "Let him watch. I want him to see me coming. I want him to feel the walls closing in."

[Ding! It is now 00:00. Daily Login is available.] [Would the Host like to Log In?]

Login, Silas commanded internally.

[Ding! Login Successful!] [Day 2 Reward: 1x 'Ghost-Step' Movement Technique (Passive) & 1x 'Dragon-Slaying' Perception Upgrade.] [The Host's 'Eye of Discernment' has evolved to Grade E: Can now detect 'Curses' and 'Internal Energy' signatures.]

Silas felt a strange lightness in his limbs, as if gravity had lost its hold on him. His vision sharpened, the world suddenly layered with data.

The car pulled up to the Grand Valerius, a monolithic hotel of glass and gold that served as the playground for the city's elite. As Silas stepped out, the doorman—usually a man who smelled poverty from a mile away—hesitated. He saw the hospital gown, but he felt the [Sovereign’s Presence]. He bowed instinctively.

Just then, a commotion erupted at the revolving doors.

A woman stumbled out, supported by two panicked bodyguards. She was stunning—ivory skin, hair like spun midnight, and dressed in a gown of dark silk that looked like liquid shadow. But her face was deathly pale, and her veins were beginning to turn a sickly, glowing violet beneath her skin.

[The Eye of Discernment (E-Grade) Activated]

Target: Sloane Nightshade. Identity: Hidden Heiress of the Nightshade Syndicate (Supernatural Underworld). Condition: 'Spectral Rot' Curse (Level 2). Diagnosis: Someone has planted a 'Soul-Eater' needle in her cervical spine. Death in 5 minutes. Value: Extremely High. Saving her grants access to the "Other Side" of Veridian City.

"Get the car! Now!" one of the guards screamed. "If Lady Nightshade dies, we're all dead!"

"A hospital won't save her," Silas’s voice rang out, calm and terrifyingly certain.

The guards looked up, reaching for the holsters beneath their jackets. "Who the hell are you? Back off, beggar!"

Silas didn't blink. He walked forward, his [Ghost-Step] making his movements seem like a blur of shadows. Before the guards could react, he was standing directly in front of Sloane.

"She’s been cursed," Silas said, his eyes locked onto the violet veins. "The doctors will call it a stroke. They’ll be wrong. I can stop it in sixty seconds."

Sloane Nightshade looked up, her vision failing. She saw a man in a hospital gown who carried himself like an emperor. Through the haze of pain, she felt a strange, magnetic pull. She reached out, her cold fingers grabbing Silas’s sleeve.

"Help... me..." she gasped.

"Hey! Get your hands off her!" The lead guard lunged at Silas.

Silas didn't even turn. He caught the guard’s wrist with a sickening crack. The man, a 250-pound professional fighter, hit the pavement with a scream of agony.

"Sarah, hold her head," Silas commanded.

Sarah, though trembling, moved with medical instinct. She supported Sloane as Silas’s hand moved with lightning speed. He didn't use a knife; he used his fingers, channeled with the raw energy provided by the System.

The Small Twist: As Silas pulled a three-inch, pulsating black needle from the base of Sloane's neck, the violet veins didn't just fade—they screamed. A low, ethereal howl echoed in the air, audible only to Silas and Sloane. The needle disintegrated into black ash.

Sloane’s color returned instantly. She gasped, her lungs filling with air. She stared at Silas, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and intense fascination.

"You... you saw it," she whispered. "You're a Practitioner?"

Silas stood up, wiping his hand on a silk handkerchief Sarah handed him. "I'm just a man collecting a debt. And now, you owe me one, too."

[Affection Level: Sloane Nightshade -> 30% (Intense Curiosity/Indebtedness)] [System Notice: You have interfered with a 'Hidden Family' assassination. Your path to Urban Cultivation has been accelerated.]

Sloane stood up, her regal bearing returning, though her hand remained on Silas's arm for support. She looked at the onlookers, then at her groveling guard.

"Give this man your keys," she ordered the guard. Then she turned to Silas, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "The Grand Valerius is my home. You won't be staying in a suite, Mr. Vane. You’ll be staying in the Royal Penthouse. As my guest."

Silas smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.

"Julian Thorne is hosting a gala here in three days, isn't he?" Silas asked.

Sloane nodded. "To celebrate his merger with your old company."

"Good," Silas said, looking up at the towering height of the hotel. "I’d hate for him to have a boring party."