Oakhaven did not smell like jasmine. It smelled of stagnant water, rotting timber, and the lingering, metallic tang of old fire. As the carriage they had hired at the rail terminus crested the final ridge, Vane looked down at the town he had once ruled from the gutters. It was a grey, broken thing. The Imperial cleanup crews had done the bare minimum, clearing the main boardwalks and leaving the rest to the encroaching mud.

Valerica sat beside him, her presence a silent, warm weight in the cold morning air. She was dressed in traveler's grey, her violet hair tucked beneath a heavy hood, but she still looked like a creature from another realm. She looked at the ruins with the quiet, analytical eyes of a strategist, but there was a flicker of something else there. It was the first time she was seeing the world that had birthed the Usurper.

They didn't stop in the town center. Vane guided the driver toward the outskirts, to the place where the mud was deepest and the buildings were nothing but charred skeletons. He stepped out of the carriage before it had even fully stopped, his boots sinking into the familiar, clinging earth.

"Wait here," Vane said to the driver. His voice was flat, devoid of the dry humor he usually used to shield himself.

He walked toward a specific patch of ground where a foundation of scorched stone still peeked through the slurry. This was where the gates had melted. This was where Gareth had stood and adjusted his cape while the world turned to ash. A few yards away, tucked behind a half-fallen wall of a neighbor's workshop, was a simple mound of dirt.

It wasn't a noble's tomb. There was no marble, no engraved poetry, and no eternal flame. It was just a muddy hole marked by a smooth river stone Vane had carried there himself five months ago.

Vane stood before it, his hands hanging loose at his sides. The Argent Horizon's grace usually made him look like he was floating, but here, he felt heavy. He felt grounded in a way that the academy could never replicate.

Valerica approached him slowly. She stopped several paces back, giving him the space that a warrior gave to another's grief. She looked at the stone, then at the ruins of his home.

"She used to complain about the way I held my fork," Vane said softly. He didn't turn around. "She'd spend all day scrubbing the mud out of my shirts, even though she knew I'd be back in the gutters by noon. She told me I was a frog who thought the circle of sky was the entire universe."

He reached down and touched the cold, damp surface of the river stone. "She was right. I was a king of puddles. I thought I knew what power was because I could extort a few merchants. Then Gareth walked in and showed me that the world is run by giants who don't even look down when they step on you."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was light, but the grip was firm. Valerica stood beside him, her gaze fixed on the mound of earth.

"She gave you the tools to survive the light, Vane," Valerica said. Her voice lacked its usual commanding edge. It was just the voice of a girl who knew what it felt like to be shaped by a parent's expectations. "She didn't raise a frog. She raised a monster who could climb out of the well."

Vane let out a slow, steady breath. The grief was there, a sharp ache in his marrow, but it was being rapidly overtaken by something else. The "Rat" was receding, and the Sentinel was taking its place. The memories of Helena weren't a weight anymore; they were a whetstone.

"I'm done mourning," Vane whispered. He stood up, his eyes focusing on the distant horizon where the industrial smoke of the refineries began. "Gareth is out there, protected by his rank and his squad. He thinks he's hunting an abnormality. He thinks he's doing the Empire's work."

He turned to Valerica, and the vulnerability was gone. In its place was a cold, calculating intent that made his violet eyes seem to glow with a dull, silver light.

"We aren't going to hunt him directly," Vane said. "That's what a Sentinel would do. We're going to go in reverse order. We're going to find the prey they are looking for first. We're going to take away his purpose before we take his life."

Valerica nodded, her mind already shifting into tactical mode. "I've been looking at the reports from the regional bureaus. These specialized squads in the outskirts aren't just here for generic abnormalities. They are hunting down Authority users who aren't noble born. The Empire views them as unstable variables. If a commoner awakens an EX or an SS rank power, the instructions are to secure or liquidate them before they can be recruited by the Palaces or the East."

She looked around the desolate landscape of Oakhaven. "But these outskirts are massive, Vane. There are hundreds of villages, thousands of industrial slums. If they have the Imperial tracking relays and we don't, how are we going to find the target before they do?"

Vane didn't answer immediately. He reached into his soul, touching the [Usurper] Authority. He felt the three empty sockets, the library of forty-three skills, and the cold, liquid mercury of the [Silver Fang]. He didn't need a relay. He didn't need a satellite.

"I'm not a standard Sentinel, Val," Vane said. A small, dangerous smile touched his lips.

He closed his eyes. Usually, his vision of the world was cluttered with data points: ranks, names, mana densities, and environmental variables. It was a sea of information that he had to filter constantly. Now, he did the opposite. He reached out to the conceptual core of his primary Authority and forced a shift.

He began to strip away the layers. He ignored the names. He ignored the mana ranks. He ignored the danger ratings. He pushed the [Target Analysis] skill to its absolute breaking point, stripping the logic of the world down to a single, binary question.

The world went black in his mind's eye. The only thing that remained was a vast, empty void. Then, he poured his mana into the "Search" function, expanding the radius until his brain throbbed with the effort.

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