The air in Lower Zenithar was thicker here, like the city itself was rotting from the inside out.

Rust-choked pipes hissed steam into the alleys, mixing with the stink of acid rain and unwashed flesh. The people down here didn't walk the streets... they crawled through them, shadows hunched under flickering lights.

Raiga moved through it all like he didn't belong and everyone knew it.

The deeper he went, the quieter it got. Until only the low, guttural thrum of a powered generator remained, vibrating through the cracked walls of an abandoned freight hub.

He pushed the door open without knocking.

Inside, five men lounged around a rusted table, the stink of cheap synth-liquor and burnt stimulants heavy in the air.

Their bodies were patchworks of low-grade cyber mods—metal plates where skin had given up, flickering optic implants too old to calibrate properly. Fingers twitched with nervous mechanical ticks. Predators who'd already eaten their own souls and were just waiting for someone else to come along and offer theirs.

Raiga didn't flinch. He stepped inside, arms loose at his sides, eyes cold and sharp.

At the center sat Krenn, a gaunt man with a half-metal jaw and a voice that rattled like broken glass in his throat. His eyes glowed faintly red under the deep shadows of his hood.

Krenn: "The Shadow of Zenithar... Look who decided to crawl into our little corner of hell."

Raiga said nothing. Just walked up and stood across from him.

Krenn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, metal fingers clicking against the rusted surface.

Krenn: "We did what you asked. Dredged every net. Pulled every registry, black and white. But guess what... You don't exist."

Raiga's eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching barely enough to show irritation.

Raiga: "Nothing? Are you serious?"

Krenn let out a dry, wheezing laugh.

Krenn: "Yeah... and that only means two things."

He leaned back, fingers drumming once on the table before spreading wide with a dry smile.

Krenn: "Either you never existed... or someone high enough made damn sure you don't anymore."

The others shifted uncomfortably, their mechanical eyes whirring softly as they exchanged uneasy glances.

Raiga turned, his patience done.

Krenn's voice came sharp behind him.

Krenn: "We're not done. You owe us, pretty boy."

Raiga stopped cold.

Raiga: "You didn't find anything. That means you don't get paid."

Krenn stood, the chair screeching across the concrete.

Krenn: "That's not how this works. You pay for the work, not the answer. You walked in here breathing, didn't you? That costs something down here."

The room tensed. One of the others cracked his knuckles—half bone, half steel. Another pulled back his coat just enough to show the grip of a plasma shiv.

Krenn: "Last chance, Shadow. Pay... or we start collecting interest."

Raiga rolled his neck, slow and deliberate, a faint metallic pop under the strain. His eyes stayed dead cold.

Raiga: "Try it."

Silence.

Then—

The man to Raiga's right moved like a coiled spring, a blur of metal and bad instincts.

Too slow.

Raiga's hand snapped out, catching the incoming wrist mid-spin. Before the momentum even finished, his other arm slammed down—

SNAP.

The bone gave way under the pressure. No hesitation. No mercy.

His fist came up in the same motion, smashing into the man's jaw with a crack like splitting stone. The thug hit the wall and didn't get back up.

But the others were already there.

"Left side. High kick."

Raiga caught a glimpse before it landed. He raised his arm—impact thundered through his bones as a cybernetic leg crashed into his guard, hurling him sideways.

Concrete exploded around him as his back hit the wall.

"Pain later. Move now."

Four on him. Fast. Coordinated. This wasn't street trash—this was practiced murder.

They came at once, blades flashing in perfect rhythm.

Raiga exhaled. His sword was already free before the thought finished.

The blade moved with him, a silver phantom slicing air.

One came low.

SLASH!

Raiga spun with brutal efficiency, his sword cutting a clean line across the man's throat. Blood sprayed in an elegant arc before the body hit the ground.

A flash of steel came at his ribs.

"Take it."

Metal kissed flesh; a shallow line of pain ripped across his arm.

Before the attacker could smile, Raiga's blade cut him open from hip to shoulder.

"Two left."

Raiga shifted his stance—but too late.

The last thug rushed in, driving a heavy elbow straight into Raiga's face.

CRACK.

Pain exploded across his cheekbone. His vision flared white. Warm blood spilled down the side of his face.

He staggered half a step.

The taste of iron filled his mouth.

"Enough of this."

Something deep and buried clawed its way to the surface. His pulse thundered in his ears. His hands tightened around the katana until the knuckles went bone white.

The world compressed. The air felt heavier.

And then...

That light.

A faint, electric blue glow bled into his irises. His breath slowed. His senses expanded beyond human limits.

Every ragged inhale from his attackers. Every microshift of their feet. The exact tension in their muscles before the next strike.

All of it—clear as day.

Raiga's jaw clenched, blood running down his chin.

"You're dead."

And then he moved.

A blur. A storm wrapped in flesh.

He closed the gap in a single step, blade low. One man lost his hand before he even registered the movement. Raiga followed through, spinning low and slicing his legs out from under him.

The last man turned to run.

"Coward."

Raiga blurred forward, his katana a streak of light. One final, perfect stroke.

The blade slid through vertebrae like air.

Silence slammed down like a hammer.

Raiga stood still, surrounded by the wreckage. Blood dripped onto the cold floor. His pulse steady. Breath calm.

The faint blue light faded from his eyes... but the echoes of it stayed, burning at the edges of his mind.

He raised a hand to his face, fingers brushing the warm blood along his cheek. His jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

A bitter breath left his lungs.

Raiga: "Shit... it happened again."

He wiped the blood from his hand, eyes dark, unreadable.

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows—leaving nothing behind but silence and the stench of death.

⸻

The apartment was silent when Liara returned.

She stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Her eyes scanned the room out of habit—empty.

Liara pulled off her jacket and sat on the edge of the old cot, staring at the door like she could will him to appear.

After a long minute, she tapped her wrist comm.

Liara: "Raiga... where the hell are you?"

There was a pause, static cutting in before his voice came through, low and distant.

Raiga: "...I'm on my way."

His tone was wrong. Flat. Off-balance.

Liara sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing.

Liara: "Raiga, what's going on? Are you—"

The line cut before she could finish.

⸻

Raiga leaned heavily against a crumbling wall, his breathing ragged.

The world tilted violently, his vision darkening at the edges.

His heartbeat felt wrong—too slow, too loud. Like it didn't belong to him anymore.

His knees almost gave out.

That flicker of blue light swirled at the edge of his vision, even with his eyes closed.

His fingers curled into the rough concrete at his back.

"What the hell is happening...?"

Another wave of dizziness hit him like a crashing tide.

Raiga clenched his teeth hard, forcing his eyes open.

And that's when he saw it—

Across the street, half-hidden in the fog, a tall figure stood perfectly still.

No face. No movement. Just watching.

Then—gone.

Raiga pushed himself upright, biting back the nausea.

Raiga: "...Who are you...?"

The faint hum of his comm buzzed again, but this time, he didn't answer.

He turned toward the rooftops. Toward home.

And behind him, in the place where the figure had stood...

The faintest shimmer of blue light hung in the air, before vanishing into nothing.