The city hadn't yet woken. The neon lights of beDuskhaven's upper districts blinked in rhythmic defiance of the rising sun, casting artificial hues across towers of glass and grime. Down below, beneath its gleaming skyline, the underground churned with whispers of a job too big to ignore.
Inside an old, converted subway car nestled in the outskirts of District 9, Asher stood with his back against a rusted window, arms crossed, eyes fixed on a grainy holographic projection hovering above the table.
A man's face flickered into view. Mid-40s. Slippery features, the kind that melted into crowds. The type who did awful things but never left fingerprints.
"Name's Malrick," Zara said, standing beside the projection, her voice calm but clipped. "He's running black-market transit routes through the Echo Line. Been disappearing people, mostly kids, for whatever's being moved underground. Nobody's been able to get close. Until now."
Rafe leaned forward on the table, elbows flared, eye glinting beneath his dark fringe. "And let me guess. We're the lucky idiots who are gonna poke the beast."
"It's not just a poke," Zara replied. "He's been selling his people to a new syndicate. A group that hasn't shown their face yet. But we intercepted a signal last night—encrypted comms tracing back to District 12's ruins. There's movement. If we don't hit now, we may lose our only lead."
Asher's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"
Zara gestured to the projection, which zoomed out to reveal a heavily fortified freight station deep in the ruins. Guards on every level. Heat signatures. Automatic turrets.
"It's a trap," Asher said.
"Probably," Zara answered. "But it's a calculated one."
"I like traps," Rafe grinned. "They make life interesting."
The fourth voice in the room was soft, almost too soft for the air it traveled through. "It's not the trap I'm worried about," murmured Mira, a lean girl in tattered robes and inked tattoos that shifted across her skin like they were alive. "It's what's inside."
She placed a glowing crystal on the table. It pulsed once—green, then red, then green again.
"That's Echo Tech," she added. "Long banned. It feeds off emotion. Fear, mainly. You bring that freight out, and it'll tear a hole through the mental barriers of everyone within five clicks."
Zara turned to Asher. "This is where you come in. We get close. You assess. And if Malrick's guilty…"
"I sentence," he finished, his voice low, steady.
Mira looked uneasy. "And what if he's not?"
Asher met her gaze. "Then I carry the guilt of nearly becoming what I hunt."
The silence was palpable.
Zara reached over and slid a black card across the table toward him. "Then it's set. We move at nightfall. Rafe's handling the infiltration route. Mira's on psy-tech disruption. We go in, confirm the shipment, and bring Malrick in alive—unless Asher makes the call."
The air felt colder now.
Asher pocketed the card. "He won't come peacefully."
Rafe cracked his knuckles. "Then we give him something to regret."
—
Later That Night…
Duskhaven's lower rails were a graveyard of metal and silence. Asher crouched beside a broken junction box, his breath even as he scanned the perimeter.
Zara's voice whispered through the comms. "North corridor clear. I'm moving in from the west."
Asher clicked twice in response.
Ahead, the freight station loomed. Massive. Half-collapsed in places, but alive with motion—shadows darting between steel pillars and echoing footsteps laced with urgency. This wasn't just smuggling. This was war logistics.
"Echo Tech's signature is spiking," Mira's voice came in. "They're charging it."
"Good," Asher said. "They'll be distracted."
With Rafe flanking the east and Zara moving from the west, Asher crept forward, each step silent, methodical. He moved like a wraith—unseen, unshaken.
Then he saw him.
Malrick. Standing near the edge of a sealed container, speaking to a figure cloaked in armor that shimmered with adaptive camouflage.
Syndicate.
Asher's vision flashed white—and then blue. Judgment activated.
In the span of a blink, the world changed.
Malrick's aura flared—a sickly red-black swirl coiling around his chest, pulsing with guilt and unspoken horror. Faces flashed around him. Children. Chains. Screams muffled by dirt and silence.
The evidence was overwhelming.
But then... something else.
A ripple. A hesitation. A moment of weakness—genuine regret? No. Not regret. Fear.
Asher stepped forward, revealing himself.
"Malrick."
The man froze. The armored figure vanished into the shadows.
Malrick turned, half in terror, half defiance. "You... you're one of them. The Judgers."
"I'm the one you answer to," Asher said coldly.
Malrick sneered. "You don't understand what's coming. I'm just a—"
"You sold lives for power."
"I saved myself!" Malrick yelled. "I was going to be next!"
The world around Asher began to warp. His judgment flared—and a new ability ignited in his palm.
Reversal.
His body surged with energy—meant to counter Echo Tech's emotional feed. The flaw kicked in almost instantly. Pain. Like needles in his veins.
Zara's voice screamed through the comms. "Asher, what are you doing?!"
"I'm sentencing him," Asher growled. "But I need balance."
Malrick backed away. "Please. Please don't—"
Asher raised his hand.
Then stopped.
He heard a sound.
A whimper.
Behind the container, a child.
Still alive.
Not all cargo was sold.
He turned sharply to Zara, who had just reached his side, eyes wild. She saw the child, too.
"No death," Asher said, lowering his hand.
Zara moved in to grab Malrick as Rafe arrived from the other side, grinning like he'd just won a bar fight.
"Well, that was dramatic."
Mira's voice buzzed through the channel. "Echo Tech neutralized. Barely. What the hell was that spike?"
"Judgment," Asher answered. "And mercy."
He walked away without another word, blood trickling from his nose, his knees shaky.
Balance needed to be restored.
And fast.
Asher sat alone on the edge of the station ruins, away from the others, the cool night air brushing over his face like an apology. His breathing was shallow. Even though Malrick had been captured and the child was safe, the weight in his chest hadn't lightened.
The flaw in his ability—Justice—was not just a concept. It was a binding law. For every judgment passed, a deed must be done. A good one. Not to balance karma, but to keep the curse of imbalance from swallowing him whole.
He had felt it back there. The tremor behind his eyes. The brief blur of vision. If he didn't make things right soon, his own powers would begin to unravel him from within.
Footsteps crunched nearby.
Zara.
She lowered herself beside him, arms resting on her knees. "You okay?"
"No," he replied honestly.
They sat in silence for a long while. Zara watched the stars—the few you could see through Duskhaven's upper dust veil. Asher stared at his hands, still faintly glowing from the backlash.
"You saw the kid," he said finally. "It changed everything."
"Yeah. But it wasn't just the kid, was it?"
Asher turned toward her, unsure how to respond.
"You didn't want to be him," she said. "Malrick. Making a decision that turns you into the thing you swore to fight."
He nodded slowly. "There's a thin line between justice and vengeance. Some days, I don't know which side I'm on."
Zara leaned her head against his shoulder, a quiet, unexpected comfort. "Then it's a good thing you have people now. To remind you."
Asher didn't move away. Her warmth was a counter to the cold he had clung to for years.
"We still have a long road ahead," she said softly. "The Syndicate's growing bolder. They'll come for us."
"Let them."
"You're not invincible, Ash."
"I know."
She paused. "But you still try to carry it all."
He glanced down at her. "Why do you stay?"
Zara lifted her head and met his eyes. "Because I see the man behind the power. The one who still believes in saving people, even if it kills him. That kind of soul? It's rare. I'm not leaving."
Her words rooted deep. Deeper than Asher wanted to admit. But in that moment, he let them.
A burst of static broke the silence.
"Guys," Rafe's voice came through the comms. "We've got company. Not Syndicate. Something... stranger."
Zara was on her feet in an instant. Asher followed, his strength returned through will alone.
They raced back to the freight yard where Rafe stood over a twisted mess of metal—a drone, melted from the inside.
"What happened?" Asher demanded.
Rafe gestured to the smoking wreck. "This thing was recording us. It's not Syndicate. It's older. More advanced. Looks like tech from the Pre-Veil Wars."
Mira crouched next to it, her fingers tracing strange glyphs. "No... this is far beyond anything I've seen. This... this is Ciphertech."
Asher stiffened. "That's not possible. Ciphertech was destroyed during the collapse."
"Apparently not." Mira looked up. "Someone's watching. Someone powerful. And ancient."
Zara's eyes narrowed. "What do they want?"
Rafe stepped back. "Maybe they want the Judger."
The weight returned.
Asher looked to the dark horizon beyond the ruins. Somewhere out there, someone had their eyes on him. And the first move had just been made.
He clenched his fists, the light in his veins pulsing.
"Then we find them," he said.
And behind his calm voice, a storm began to stir.