The Sovereign’s Retribution: Daily Login to Godhood

Chapter 8: Day Seven

Silas opened the System before his feet touched the floor.

「 ★ 7-DAY STREAK MILESTONE ★ 」

「 Congratulations! The Host has maintained a consecutive sign-in streak of 7 days! 」

「 Milestone rewards will now be distributed. 」

「 Day 7 Sign-In successful! 」

「 The Host has obtained: 」

「 1. Skill: Lie Detector (Rare — Passive, Permanent) 」

「 2. $5,000,000 」

「 3. Skill: Eagle Eye (Rare — Passive, Permanent) 」

Three rewards. Two of them Rare-tier skills. Both permanent.

「 Lie Detector — The Host can now perceive micro-expressions, vocal micro-tremors, pupil dilation patterns, and other physiological indicators of deception. This is not telepathy. This is heightened perceptual awareness of human dishonesty signals. Always active. 」

「 Eagle Eye — The Host's visual perception is permanently enhanced. The Host will notice hidden details, concealed objects, subtle environmental changes, and fine print that would escape normal observation. Always active. 」

Silas read each description twice. Then he stood up from the bed.

His ribs barely hurt. His legs were steady. A week of Cellular Regeneration, Healing Pills, and rising Physique had done more than six weeks of hospital care ever would.

He checked STATUS.

「 Physique: 5 」 「 Wealth: $105,850,014 」 「 Skills: Cellular Regeneration Lv.1, Appraisal Eye (3/day), Iron Grip, Speed Reading, Lie Detector, Eagle Eye 」

Six skills. Over a hundred million in the bank. And it was only Day 7.

He needed to test the new abilities.

The hotel suite had a large TV mounted on the wall. Silas turned it on and flipped to a news channel. A city councilman was being interviewed about a new housing development project.

"I can assure the public that this project has been thoroughly vetted," the councilman said. "There are absolutely no conflicts of interest involved."

Silas watched his face.

And there it was. The councilman's left eyelid twitched — barely a fraction of a millimeter. His pupils contracted slightly on the word "absolutely." A micro-tremor in his voice on "no conflicts" — so subtle that no normal person would catch it.

But Silas caught all of it. The signals lit up in his perception like highlights on a page.

The man was lying.

Silas changed the channel. A celebrity promoting a charity foundation. "Every dollar goes directly to the children." Left hand clenched. Blink rate doubled. Lying.

A weather reporter. "Expect clear skies through the weekend." No signals. Telling the truth. Or at least believed she was.

'I can see lies.' Silas turned off the TV. 'Not thoughts. Not intentions. But I can tell when someone is being dishonest, and I can see exactly which part of their statement triggers the deception response.'

He looked out the window. Eagle Eye activated automatically. The skyline sharpened. Details he'd never noticed before jumped out — a crack in a building facade two blocks away, a security camera angle on the building across the street, the license plate of a car parked fourteen stories below. All of it crisp and clear.

'These two skills together...' Silas thought. 'I can see what people hide. In their words and in the world around them.'

A knock at the door.

He checked the peephole. Eagle Eye showed him details through the fish-eye lens that would normally be blurred — a young woman in an oversized hoodie, dark curly hair under a beanie, carrying two laptop bags, a portable server case, and a grocery bag stuffed with energy drinks.

He opened the door.

Zephyr walked in and stopped dead. She stared at the suite. The marble floors. The floor-to-ceiling windows. The king-sized bed. The sitting area that was bigger than the entire Nexus Point café.

"You're kidding me," she said.

"Problem?"

"I've been sleeping in an internet café for three months. This room has a chandelier." She dropped her bags on the couch. "This is where you've been staying?"

"Since I left the hospital."

"The hospital you left four days ago. In a wheelchair."

"Correct."

She shook her head and started unpacking. Three laptops, a portable server, a tangle of cables, and enough energy drinks to last a week. Within ten minutes, she'd turned the suite's desk into a command center.

"Alright, Boss." She cracked open a can. "What's the job?"

Silas sat down across from her. "St. Caelum General Hospital. The administrative director, Conrad Hale, has been running a billing fraud scheme. Fake procedures charged to patients who can't fight back — charity cases, uninsured, elderly. The money flows up through a shell company."

"Flows up to who?"

"Thorne Medical Group."

Zephyr's fingers paused on her keyboard. "You want me to hack into a Thorne subsidiary."

"I want you to find evidence. Patient records. Billing logs. Financial transfers. I need enough to prove a pattern — not just my case, but hundreds of cases."

"Why hundreds?"

"Because one case is a complaint. Hundreds of cases is a scandal."

Zephyr looked at him. She chewed her lip. "How long do I have?"

"Twelve days."

"Twelve days to crack a hospital's billing system, trace financial flows to a Thorne shell company, and compile evidence for what — a government investigation?"

"Yes."

She grinned. "Finally, a real job." She turned to her laptops and started typing.

---

For the next six hours, Zephyr worked. Silas watched, reviewed documents with Speed Reading, and made notes.

At hour two, Zephyr broke through St. Caelum's external billing portal. "Their security is a joke. I've seen better firewalls on pizza delivery apps."

At hour four, she had patient records. Thousands of them.

"Boss. Come look at this."

Silas walked over. His legs were strong now. No wheelchair. No limp.

Zephyr pointed at her screen. "Three hundred and forty-seven patients in the last three years have been billed for procedures that don't match their treatment histories. All charity ward or uninsured. Total overbilling — just from what I've found so far — is over twelve million dollars."

"Where does the money go?"

"Through a company called Caelum Health Partners. Registered six months before the overbilling started. Guess who the silent partner is."

"Thorne Medical Group."

"Bingo." She pulled up a corporate filing. "Caelum Health Partners. Board of directors: Conrad Hale and two names I don't recognize. But the funding source is a holding company that traces back to — "

"Thorne Medical Group. Reference code TM."

"You already knew that?"

"I had the reference code. Not the full chain. Now I do."

Zephyr leaned back and let out a breath. "Twelve million dollars stolen from people who couldn't afford to be sick in the first place. That's not fraud. That's evil."

Silas said nothing. He was reading the patient list on her screen. Name after name. Ages, conditions, amounts stolen.

"Keep going," he said. "I need everything. Every record, every transaction, every name."

Zephyr nodded and turned back to her keyboards.

At hour six, she stopped typing.

The room went quiet. No clicking. No keyboard sounds. Just Zephyr staring at her screen with an expression Silas hadn't seen before.

"Hey, Boss?" Her voice was different now. Smaller.

Silas looked up from his notes.

"You're gonna want to see this."

He walked over and looked at the screen.

A patient file. St. Caelum General Hospital. Admitted fourteen months ago through the emergency department. Cause of admission: cardiac event during legal proceedings.

Cause of death: heart failure.

Billing records showed four procedures administered during the patient's three-hour stay. Blood panel. Cardiac imaging. Emergency stabilization protocol. Intravenous medication.

But the treatment logs — the actual nurse and doctor records — showed only one. A single blood panel, drawn after the patient was already dead.

Three procedures billed. Three procedures never performed. On a dead man.

The patient's name was at the top of the file.

Marcus Vane. Age 54. Deceased.

Silas didn't move.

He read the file again. Every line. The admission time. The billing codes. The treatment log gaps. Three phantom procedures on a man who died on a courtroom floor.

They hadn't just stolen from his father. They'd profited from his death.

The room was very quiet.

"Boss?" Zephyr's voice was careful. "Is that... is that your — "

"My father." Silas's voice was flat. Controlled. "He died fourteen months ago. Heart failure during a court hearing."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know — "

"Don't apologize. You found it. That's what matters."

He straightened up. His face showed nothing. But his hands were pressed flat against the desk, and the wood groaned faintly under his grip.

"Find everything," he said. "Every record connected to my father's admission. Every name. Every transaction. Every person who signed off on those charges."

Zephyr watched him for a moment. Then she turned to her keyboard without another word.

Silas walked to the window. The Meridian skyline glowed under the night sky. Somewhere out there, Conrad Hale was sleeping in a nice house paid for with money stolen from dying patients. From his father.

'You didn't just let him die,' Silas thought. 'You billed a dead man for treatments you never gave him. You turned his death into profit.'

His reflection stared back at him from the glass. Gray-green eyes. The scar on his jaw. Hands that could dent steel.

'Twelve days left on the quest. But this isn't about the quest anymore.'

He turned from the window.

"Zeph."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"New priority. My father's file goes to the top of the list."

She nodded.

Silas sat down. His expression hadn't changed. But something behind his eyes had shifted — something cold and final, settling into place.

Tomorrow was Day 8. And Conrad Hale's time had just gotten a lot shorter.