Chapter Five : Shadow Broadcast
Kael sat on the edge of the concrete platform, eyes fixed on the flickering ruins of the substation. Emergency lights blinked weakly along the walls, casting everything in a dull, reddish glow. Smoke still curled up from the floor where lightning had struck.
His muscles ached.
Across from him, Nima crouched by a scorched drone, checking the damage. Her coat was torn, and her hair clung to her face with sweat and ash.
"The drone's fried," she muttered. "Wraith's strike cooked the grid clean. This site's dead."
Kael didn't answer. He just stared at the spot where Wraith had stood—where they'd almost had him. Almost.
Nima stood, brushing dust from her knees. Kael clenched his jaw. "He's getting bolder."
"And smarter," Nima added.
She walked over and handed him a small data chip. "This survived the blast. My drone definitely captured something. We'll analyze it back at the Support Base. Maybe we'll get something from it."
Kael took it without a word, still lost in thought. "He didn't kill me," he said suddenly. "He had the chance. More than once."
Nima nodded slowly. "I noticed."
"Why?"
Nima replied, "Maybe you're not part of his plan yet."
Nima's gaze flicked to Kael's injuries, concern etched on her face. "Whatever, let's get you treated first," she said, her voice firm but gentle.
Kael nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes," he replied, his voice laced with a mix of relief and exhaustion.
They left the ruined substation in silence, walking through the darkened streets. The power grid in this district had collapsed completely. Neon signs flickered and died. Drones floated lifeless, their flight paths interrupted mid-task.
A city that ran on belief suddenly felt powerless.
*****
Kael sat on the med bench in near silence, staring down at his gloved hands. He still felt the echo of it—that moment when the nullifying net wrapped around him. The chill that came with losing his powers. The helplessness.
Across the room, Nima paced with tight frustration. "We had him. Just for a second. And then—he vanished like smoke."
The trap had failed. Worse, it had caught the wrong person. Kael had barely recovered in time to stand.
There was a sharp knock on the door.
Lira entered, holding a datapad. Her expression unreadable. "You two are making waves," she said.
Kael looked up. "What kind?"
She handed the pad to Nima. A paused frame of video showed Wraith—just a few seconds of footage from a drone, glitchy but clear. The mask. The coat. The lightning.
"He showed up on the surveillance drone backup. The footage was corrupted, but tech managed to salvage a short clip," Lira explained. "It's already making rounds. Someone leaked it."
Nima frowned. "So now everyone knows what he looks like."
"Not exactly," Lira said. "It's not clear enough to identify him. But it's enough to terrify people. They're calling it 'The Phantom Surge.'"
Kael exhaled, feeling the weight build behind his ribs. "They're turning him into a myth."
"They already have," Lira replied. "And now HQ's doubling down."
Kael blinked. "What do you mean?"
"They've issued new directives. High-tier heroes are being reassigned. They're moving trusted operatives to high-Trust zones only—no more activity in low-Trust areas."
Nima narrowed her eyes. "They're pulling everyone away from where Wraith strikes."
Lira nodded. "Exactly. And they're making it sound like resource balancing. But it's a cover-up. Quiet suppression. No more authorized investigations into Wraith unless approved directly by top brass."
Kael stood. "So they're not even trying to stop him."
"No. They're trying to control the narrative," Nima said bitterly. "If Wraith exposes the flaws in the Belief system—if people start doubting the very metrics that keep us alive—the entire structure will collapse."
Lira crossed her arms. "They don't want a hero bringing him in. They don't want people thinking a hero had to clean up the system's mistakes."
Kael's eyes hardened. "So they're pretending this isn't happening. That we're not dying."
Nima added, "Which is exactly why we're not reporting anything we find."
Lira sighed. "I can't back you officially. But I'm not going to stop you either. Just… be careful. You're both walking a thin line."
Kael looked down at the pad again—at that flickering image of Wraith.
The half-black, half-white mask. The glowing violet eyes. The flowing coat. The eerie silence.
They were going to see a lot more of that mask.
And Kael was going to be the one to take it off.
***********
Back at the Support Base of the Hero Assistance Agency, Nima uploaded the data from the recovered chip to the secure servers. Kael stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes heavy but alert.
"We've got some electric traces," she said, typing fast. "They are popping up in specific areas, like he's leaving breadcrumbs."
"Following a pattern?" Kael asked.
"Maybe. I'm cross-referencing the locations of hero activity over the last two weeks."
Lines of code scrolled down the screen. A soft beep confirmed the match.
"Got it," she said. "He's been moving through abandoned maintenance tunnels.."
Kael frowned. "Those haven't been used in years."
"Exactly. Which means no one's watching them."
He stepped closer, pointing to one path on the map. "Where does this one lead?"
She traced the line. "Sector 9. Near the old monument district."
Kael's brows furrowed. "That's where the Hero Archives used to be."
Nima raised an eyebrow. "You think that matters?"
"Wraith is focused on the idea of heroes," Kael said. "He's killing belief. What better place to hit next than where the history of heroism is stored?"
Nima nodded slowly. "You're right. If he destroys that, it won't just be about killing us—it'll be erasing us."
Kael stood straighter. "We need to get ahead of him."
"You need rest," she said firmly. "Your readings were spiking from that fight. You've got burn damage."
"I'll heal."
"Not if you burn yourself out first."
Kael hesitated. He wanted to argue, but she wasn't wrong. His body still ached from the energy blast, and his head throbbed from overusing his powers.
"I'll take one hour," he said finally. "Then we go."
Nima sighed. "You heroes never learn."
Kael gave a tired smile. "Not while people are still counting on us."
An hour later, Kael stood alone in the observation deck of the support base. From here, the whole city lay beneath him—dark patches where the grid had failed, glowing towers where Faith levels remained strong.
He thought of Walter. Of Ruby, Isaac, and Noah.
And of Wraith.
He couldn't shake the moment when their eyes met. The silence behind that mask. It wasn't just rage. There had been… nothing. Not even a single emotion.
But that didn't excuse it.
The city needed answers. And Kael would find them.
Even if he had to tear through every shadow in Skyline to do it.